THE 
10STHEIR 


G.A.HENTY 


s 


Cf — «^ 


SIMCOE   RAN   IN   WITH   HIS  KNIFE  AND   ATTACKED   THE  TIGER. 
The  Lost  Heir,  ~-Pa<re  4, 


THE  LOST  HEIR 


BY 

G.  A.  HENTY 

Af^kor  o»  "The  Boy  Knight,"    "Sturdy  and  Strong,"    "Tree 
the  Old  Flag,"  "With  Clive  in  India,"  etc. 


M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  CO 

CHICAGO 


Sea«  of  Educ.  a*, 


°\*U 

Hff&t 

JU^ 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER 

PAQB 

I. 

A  Brave  Action,     .       •       •       • 

1 

II. 

In  the  South  Seas, 

.       .        .      14 

m. 

A  Deaf  Girl,            .       .       •       • 

.      27 

IV. 

The  Gypsy 

.      40 

v. 

A  Gambling  Den,     .... 

.      53 

VI. 

.      65 

VII. 

John  Simcoe's  Friend,     .       .       . 

.      77 

VIII. 

General  Mathieson's  Seizure,     , 

.        .      90 

IX. 

A  Strange  Illness,         .       .       . 

.       .    103 

X. 

Two  Heavy  Blows,          .       .       . 

.       .    113 

XL 

A  Startling  Will,          .       .       , 

.       .    124 

XII. 

Dr.  Leeds  Speaks,           .        .       . 

.    137 

XIII. 

Metta  Visits  Stowmabket,    .       . 

.        o    150 

XIV. 

An  Advertisement,         .       .       , 

XV. 

.    176 

XVI. 

A  Fresh  Clew,         .... 

.    193 

XVII. 

Netta  Acts  Independently,         • 

.    206 

XVIII. 

Down  in  the  Marshes,           .       . 

XIX. 

A  Partial  Success,         .        •       . 

.    233 

XX. 

A  Dinner  Party,             .       •       • 

XXI. 

A  Box  at  the  Opera,             • 

.    263 

XXII. 

Nearing  the  Goal,          .       .       . 

XXIII. 

.    287 

XXIV. 

A  New  Barge,                  ,       .       • 

XXV. 

A  Crushing  Exposure    .       .       . 

.    816 

XXVL 

A  Letter  from  Abroad,         .        . 

.       ,        ,    380 

THE  LOST  HEIR 


CHAPTEE   I. 

A    BEAVE    ACTION. 

A  numbee  of  soldiers  were  standing  in  the  road  near 
the  bungalow  of  Brigadier-General  Mathieson,  the  officer 
in  command  of  the  force  in  the  cantonments  of  Benares 
and  the  surrounding  district. 

"  They  are  coming  now,  I  think/'  one  sergeant  said  to 
another.  "  It  is  a  bad  business.  They  say  the  General 
is  terribly  hurt,  and  it  was  thought  better  to  bring  him 
and  the  other  fellow  who  was  mixed  up  in  it  down  in 
doolies.  I  heard  Captain  Harvey  say  in  the  orderly-room 
that  they  have  arranged  relays  of  bearers  every  five  miles 
all  the  way  down.  He  is  a  good  fellow  is  the  General, 
and  we  should  all  miss  him.  He  is  not  one  of  the  sort 
who  has  everything  comfortable  himself  and  don't  care  a 
rap  how  the  soldiers  get  on:  he  sees  to  the  comfort  of 
everyone  and  spends  his  money  freely,  too.  He  don't 
seem  to  care  what  he  lays  out  in  making  the  quarters  of 
the  married  men  comfortable,  and  in  getting  any  amount 
of  ice  for  the  hospital,  and  extra  punkawallahs  in  the  bar- 
rack rooms  during  the  hot  season.  He  goes  out  and  sees 
to  everything  himself.  Why,  on  the  march  I  have  known 
him,  when  all  the  doolies  were  full,  give  up  his  own  horse 
to  a  man  who  had  fallen  out.  He  has  had  bad  luck  too; 
lost  his  wife  years  ago  by  cholera,  and  he  has  got  no  one 
to  care  for  but  his  girl.  She  was  only  a  few  months  old 
when  her  mother  died.  Of  course  she  was  sent  off  to 
England,  and  has  been  there  ever  since.     He  must  be  a 


. 


*  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

lich  man,  besides  his  pay  and  allowances;  but  it  aint  every 
rich  man  who  spends  his  money  as  he  does.  There  won't 
be  a  dry  eye  in  the  cantonment  if  he  goes  under." 
"How  was  it  the  other  man  got  hurt? " 
"  Well,  I  hear  that  the  tiger  sprang  on  to  the  General's 
elephant  and  seized  him  by  the  leg.  They  both  went  off 
together,  and  the  brute  shifted  its  hold  to  the  shoulder, 
aiid  carried  him  into  the  jungle;  then  the  other  fellow 
slipped  off  his  elephant  and  ran  after  the  tiger.  He  got 
badly  mauled  too;  but  he  killed  the  brute  and  saved  the 
General's  life." 

||  By  Jove!  that  was  a  plucky  thing.  Who  was  he?  " 
'Why,  he  was  the  chap  who  was  walking  backwards 
and  forwards  with  the  General  when  the  band  was  playing 
yesterday  evening.  Several  of  the  men  remarked  how 
like  he  was  to  you,  Sanderson.  I  noticed  it,  too.  There 
certainly  was  a  strong  likeness." 

"Yes,  some  of  the  fellows  were  saying  so,"  Sanderson 
replied.  He  passed  close  to  me,  and  I  saw  that  he  was 
about  my  height  and  build,  but  of  course  I  did  not  notice 
the  likeness;  a  man  does  not  know  his  own  face  much 
Anyhow,  he  only  sees  his  full  face,  and  doesn't  know  how 
'hejooks  sideways.     He  is  a  civilian,  isn't  he?  " 

"Yes,  I  believe  so;  I  know  that  the  General  is  putting 
him  up  at  his  quarters.  He  has  been  here  about  a  week. 
1  think  he  is  some  man  from  England,  traveling,  I  sup- 
pose, to  see  the  world.  I  heard  the  Adjutant  speak  of 
him  as  Mr.  Simcoe  when  he  was  talking  about  the  affair." 
"  Of  course  they  will  take  him  to  the  General's  bunga- 
low? "  & 

"No;  he  is  going  to  the  next.     Major  Walker  is  away 

°u  i5v£  and  the  doctor  says  that  {t  is  better  that  they 
should  be  m  different  bungalows,  because  then  if  one  gets 
delirious  and  noisy  he  won't  disturb  the  other.  Dr. 
Hunter  is  going  to  take  up  his  quarters  there  to  look  after 
him,  with  his  own  servants  and  a  couple  of  hospital 
orderlies."  r 

By  this  time  several  officers  were  gathered  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  General's  bungalow,  two  mounted  troopers 


A  BE  AVE  ACTION.  3 

having  brought  in  the  news  a  few  minutes  before  that  the 
doolies  were  within  a  mile. 

They  came  along  now,  each  carried  by  four  men,  main- 
taining a  swift  but  smooth  and  steady  pace,  and  abstain- 
ing from  the  monotonous  chant  usually  kept  up.  A  doc- 
tor was  riding  by  the  side  of  the  doolies,  and  two  mounted 
orderlies  with  baskets  containing  ice  and  surgical  dress- 
ings rode  fifty  paces  in  the  rear.  The  curtains  of  the 
doolies  had  been  removed  to  allow  of  a  free  passage  of 
air,  and  mosquito  curtains  hung  round  to  prevent  insects 
annoying  the  sufferers. 

There  was  a  low  murmur  of  sympathy  from  the  soldiers 
as  the  doolies  passed  them,  and  many  a  muttered  "  God 
bless  you,  sir,  and  bring  you  through  it  all  right."  Then, 
as  the  injured  men  were  carried  into  the  two  bungalows, 
most  of  the  soldiers  strolled  off,  some,  however,  remain- 
ing near  in  hopes  of  getting  a  favorable  report  from  an 
orderly  or  servant.  A  group  of  officers  remained  under 
the  shade  of  a  tree  near  until  the  surgeon  who  had  ridden 
in  with  the  doolies  came  out. 

"  What  is  the  report,  McManus  ?  "  one  of  them  asked, 
as  he  approached. 

"  There  is  no  change  since  I  sent  off  my  report  last 
night/'  he  said.  "  The  General  is  very  badly  hurt;  I  cer- 
tainly should  not  like  to  give  an  opinion  at  present 
whether  he  will  get  over  it  or  not.  If  he  does  it  will  be 
a  very  narrow  shave.  He  was  insensible  till  we  lifted  him 
into  the  doolie  at  eight  o'clock  yesterday  evening,  when 
the  motion  seemed  to  rouse  him  a  little,  and  he  just 
opened  his  eyes;  and  each  time  we  changed  bearers  he  has 
had  a  little  ice  between  his  lips,  and  a  drink  of  lime  juice 
and  water  with  a  dash  of  brandy  in  it.  He  has  known 
me  each  time,  and  whispered  a  word  or  two,  asking  after 
the  other." 

"And  how  is  he?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  do;  that  is,  of  course,  if 
fever  does  not  set  in  badly.  His  wounds  are  not  «o 
severe  as  the  General's,  and  be  is  a  much  younger  man, 
and,  as  T  should  say,  with  a  good  constitution.     If  there 


4  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

is  no  complication  he  ought  to  be  about  again  in  a  month's 
time.  He  is  perfect!}'  sensible.  Let  him  lie  quiet  for  a 
day  or  two;  after  that  it  would  be  as  well  if  some  of  you 
who  have  met  him  at  the  General's  would  drop  in  occa- 
sionally for  a  short  chat  with  him;  but  of  course  we  must 
wait  to  see  if  there  is  going  to  be  much  fever." 

"  And  did  it  happen  as  they  say,  doctor?  The  dis- 
patch told  us  very  little  beyond  the  fact  that  the  General 
was  thrown  from  his  elephant,  just  as  the  tiger  sprang, 
and  that  it  seized  him  and  carried  him  into  the  jungle; 
that  Simcoe  slipped  off  his  pad  and  ran  in  and  attacked 
the  tiger;  that  he  saved  the  General's  life  and  killed  the 
animal,  but  is  sadly  hurt  himself." 

"  That  is  about  it,  except  that  he  did  not  kill  the  tiger. 
Metcalf ,  Colvin,  and  Smith  all  ran  in,  and  firing  together 
knocked  it  over  stone  dead.  It  was  an  extraordinarily 
plucky  action  of  Simcoe,  for  he  had  emptied  his  rifle,  and 
had  nothing  but  it  and  a  knife  when  he  ran  in." 

"You  don't  say  so!  By  Jove!  that  was  an  extraordi- 
nary act  of  pluck;  one  would  almost  say  of  madness,  if  he 
hadn't  succeeded  in  drawing  the  brute  off  Mathieson,  and 
so  gaining  time  for  the  others  to  come  up.  It  was  a 
miracle  that  he  wasn't  killed.  Well,  we  shall  not  have 
quite  so  easy  a  time  of  it  for  a  bit.  Of  course  Murdock, 
as  senior  officer,  will  take  command  of  the  brigade,  but 
he  won't  be  half  as  considerate  for  our  comfort  as  Mathie- 
son has  been.  He  is  rather  a  scoffer  at  what  he  calls  new- 
fangled ways,  and  he  will  be  as  likely  to  march  the  men 
ouUn  the  heat  of  the  day  as  at  five  in  the  morning." 

The  two  sergeants  who  had  been  talking  walked  back 
together  to  their  quarters.  Both  of  them  were  on  the 
brigade  staff.  Sanderson  was  the  Paymaster's  clerk, 
Nichol  worked  in  the  orderly-room.  At  the  sergeants' 
mess  the  conversation  naturally  turned  on  the  tiger  hunt 
and  its  consequences. 

"  I  have  been  in  some  tough  fights,"  one  of  the  older 
men  said,  "  and  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  felt  badly  scared 
— one  hasn't  time  to  think  of  that  when  one  is  at  work- 
but  to  rush  in  against  a  wounded  tiger  with  nothing  but 


A  BRAVE  ACTION.  5 

an  empty  gun  and  a  hunting-knife  is  not  the  sort  of  job 
that  I  should  like  to  tackle.  It  makes  one's  blood  run 
cold  to  think  of  it.  I  consider  that  everyone  in  the  bri- 
gade ought  to  subscribe  a  day's  pay  to  get  something  to 
give  that  man,  as  a  token  of  our  admiration  for  his  pluck 
and  of  our  gratitude  for  his  having  saved  General  Mathie- 
6on's  life." 

There  was  a  general  expression  of  approval  at  the  idea. 
Then  Sanderson  said: 

"  I  think  it  is  a  thing  that  ought  to  be  done,  but  it  is 
not  for  us  to  begin  it.  If  we  hear  of  anything  of  that  sort 
done  by  the  officers,  two  or  three  of  us  might  go  up  and 
say  that  it  was  the  general  wish  among  the  non-coms,  and 
men  to  take  a  share  in  it;  but  it  would,  never  do  for  us  to 
begin." 

"  That  is  right  enough;  the  officers  certainly  would  not 
like  such  a  thing  to  begin  from  below.  We  had  better 
wait  and  see  whether  there  is  any  movement  that  way. 
I  dare  say  that  it  will  depend  a  great  deal  on  whether  the 
General  gets  over  it  or  not." 

The  opportunity  did  not  come.  At  the  end  of  five 
weeks  Mr.  Simcoe  was  well  enough  to  travel  by  easy  stages 
down  to  the  coast,  acting  upon  the  advice  that  he  should, 
for  the  present,  give  up  all  idea  of  making  a  tour  through 
India,  and  had  better  take  a  sea  voyage  to  Australia  or  the 
Cape,  or,  better  still,  take  his  passage  home  at  once.  Had 
the  day  and  hour  of  his  leaving  been  known,  there  was  not 
a  white  soldier  in  the  cantonments  who  would  not  have 
turned  out  to  give  him  a  hearty  cheer,  but  although  going 
on  well  the  doctor  said  that  all  excitement  should  be 
avoided.  It  would  be  quite  enough  for  him  to  have  to  say 
good-by  to  the  friends  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  com- 
ing in  to  talk  with  him  daily,  but  anything  like  a  public 
greeting  by  the  men  would  be  likely  to  upset  him.  It  was 
not,  therefore,  until  Simcoe  was  some  way  down  the  river 
that  his  departure  became  known  to  the  troops. 

Six  weeks  later  there  was  a  sensation  in  the  canton- 
ments. General  Mathieson  had  so  far  recovered  that  he 
was  able  to  be  carried  up  to  the  hills,  and  the  camp  was 


6  TEE  LOST  EEIB. 

still  growling  at  the  irritating  orders  and  regulations  of 
his  temporary  successor  in  command,  when  the  news 
spread  that  Staff  Pay-Sergeant  Sanderson  had  deserted. 
He  had  obtained  a  fortnight's  furlough,  saying  that  he 
wanted  to  pay  a  visit  to  some  old  comrades  at  Allahabad; 
at  the  end  of  the  fortnight  he  had  not  returned,  and  the 
Staff  Paymaster  had  gone  strictly  into  his  accounts  and 
found  that  there  was  a  deficiency  of  over  £300,  which  he 
himself  would  of  course  be  called  upon  to  make  good.  He 
had,  indeed,  helped  to  bring  about  the  deficiency  by  plac- 
ing entire  confidence  in  the  sergeant  and  by  neglecting  to 
check  his  accounts  regularly. 

Letters  were  at  once  written  to  the  heads  of  the  police 
at  Calcutta  and  Bombay,  and  to  all  the  principal  places  on 
the  roads  to  those  ports;  but  it  was  felt  that,  with  such  a 
start  as  he  had  got,  the  chances  were  all  in  his  favor. 

It  was  soon  ascertained  at  Allahabad  that  he  had  not 
been  there.  Inquiries  at  the  various  dak-bungalows  satis- 
fied the  authorities  that  he  had  not  traveled  by  land.  If 
he  had  gone  down  to  Calcutta  he  had  gone  by  boat;  but  he 
might  have  started  on  the  long  land  journey  across  to 
Bombay,  or  have  even  made  for  Madras.  No  distinct 
clew,  however,  could  be  obtained. 

The  Paymaster  obtained  leave  and  went  down  to  Cal- 
cutta and  inspected  all  the  lists  of  passengers  and  made 
inquiries  as  to  them;  but  there  were  then  but  few  white 
men  in  the  country,  save  those  holding  civil  or  military 
positions  and  the  merchants  at  the  large  ports,  therefore 
there  was  not  much  difficulty  in  ascertaining  the  identity 
of  everyone  who  had  left  Calcutta  during  the  past  month, 
unless,  indeed,  he  had  taken  a  passage  in  some  native  craft 
to  Rangoon  or  possibly  Singapore. 

On  his  arrival  at  Calcutta  he  heard  of  an  event  which 
caused  deep  and  general  regret  when  known  at  Benares, 
and  for  a  time  threw  even  the  desertion  of  Sergeant  San- 
derson into  the  shade.  The  Nepaul,  in  which  John  Sim- 
coe  had  sailed,  had  been  lost  in  a  typhoon  in  the  Bay  of 
Bengal  when  but  six  days  out.  There  was  no  possible 
doubt  as  to  his  fate,  for  a  vessel  half  a  mile  distant  had 


A  BE  AVE  ACTION.  7 

seen  her  founder,  but  could  render  no  assistance,  being 
herself  dismasted  and  unmanageable  and  the  sea  so  tre- 
mendous that  no  -boat  could  have  lived  in  it  for  a  moment. 
As  both  ships  belonged  to  the  East  India  Company,  and 
were  well  known  to  each  other,  the  captain  and  officials  of 
the  Ceylon  had  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  her  identity,  and, 
indeed,  the  remains  of  a  boat  bearing  the  Nepaul's  name 
were  picked  up  a  few  days  later  near  the  spot  where  she 
had  gone  down. 

"  It's  hard  luck,  that  is  what  I  call  it,"  Sergeant  Nichol 
said  with  great  emphasis  when  the  matter  was  talked  over 
in  the  sergeants'  mess.  "  Here  is  a  man  who  faces  a 
wounded  tiger  with  nothing  but  a  hunting-knife,  and  re- 
covers from  his  wounds;  here  is  the  General,  whose  life 
he  saved,  going  on  first-rate,  and  yet  he  loses  his  life  him- 
self, drowned  at  sea.  I  call  that  about  as  hard  luck  as 
anything  I  have  heard  of." 

"Hard  luck  indeed!  "  another  said.  "If  he  had  died 
of  his  wounds  it  would  have  been  only  what  might  have 
been  expected;  but  to  get  over  them  and  then  to  get 
drowned  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  started  is,  as  you  say, 
Nichol,  very  hard  luck.  I  am  sure  the  General  will  be 
terribly  cut  up  about  it.  I  heard  Major  Butler  tell  Cap- 
tain Thompson  that  he  had  heard  from  Dr.  Hunter  that 
when  the  General  began  to  get  round  and  heard  that  Sim- 
coe  had  gone,  while  he  was  lying  there  too  ill  to  know  any- 
thing about  it,  he  regularly  broke  down  and  cried  like  a 
child;  and  I  am  sure  the  fact  that  he  will  never  have  the 
chance  of  thanking  him  now  will  hurt  him  as  bad  as  those 
tiger's  claws." 

"  And  so  there  is  no  news  of  Sanderson?  " 

"  Not  that  I  have  heard.  Maybe  he  has  got  clean  away; 
but  I  should  say  it's  more  likely  that  he  is  lying  low  in 
some  sailors'  haunt  until  the  matter  blows  over.  Then, 
like  enough,  he  will  put  on  sea-togs  and  ship  under  an- 
other name  before  the  mast  in  some  trader  knocking 
about  among  the  islands,  and  by  the  time  she  comes  back 
he  could  take  a  passage  home  without  questions  being 
asked.     He  is  a  sharp  fellow  is  Sanderson,     i  never  quite 


8  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

liked  him  myself,  but  I  never  thought  he  was  a  rogue.  It 
will  teach  Captain  Smalley  to  be  more  careful  in  future. 
I  heard  that  he  was  going  home  on  his  long  leave  in  the 
spring,  but  I  suppose  he  will  not  be  able  to  do  so  now  for 
a  year  or  so;  three  hundred  pounds  is  a  big  sum  to  have  to 
fork  out." 

The  news  of  the  loss  of  the  Nepaul,  with  all  hands,  did 
indeed  hit  General  Mathieson  very  heavily,  and  for  a  time 
seriously  delayed  the  progress  that  he  was  making  towards 
recovery. 

"  It's"  bad  enough  to  think,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  never 
have  an  opportunity  of  thanking  that  gallant  fellow  for 
my  life;  but  it  is  even  worse  to  know  that  my  rescue  has 
brought  about  his  death,  for  had  it  not  been  for  that  he 
would  have  bv  this  time  been  up  at  Delhi  or  in  Oude  in- 
stead of  lying*  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  I  would  give  half 
my  fortune  to  grasp  his  hand  again  arid  tell  him  what  I 
feel." 

General  Mathieson's  ill  luck  stuck  to  him.  He  gained 
strength  so  slowly  that  he  was  ordered  home,  and  it  was 
three  years  before  he  rejoined.  Four  years  later  his 
daughter  came  out  to  him,  and  for  a  time  his  home  in 
Delhi,  where  he  was  now  stationed,  was  a  happy  one. 
The  girl  showed  no  desire  to  marry,  and  refused  several 
very  favorable  offers;  but  after  she  had  been  out  four 
years  she  married  a  rising  young  civilian  who  was  also 
stationed  at  Delhi.  The  union  was  a  happy  one,  except 
that  the  first  two  children  born  to  them  died  in  infancy. 
They  were  girls.  The  third  was  a  boy,  who  at  the  age  of 
eight  months  was  sent  home  under  the  charge  of  an  offi- 
cer's wife  returning  with  her  children  to  England.  When 
they  arrived  there  he  was  placed  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Coving- 
ton, a  niece  of  the  General's.  But  before  he  reached  the 
shores  of  England  he  was  an  orphan.  An  epidemic  of 
cholera  broke 'out  at  the  station  at  which  his  father,  who 
was  now  a  deputy  collector,  was  living,  and  he  and  his 
wife  were  among  the  first  victims  of  the  scourge. 

General  Mathieson  was  now  a  major-general,  and  in 
ojMnmand  of  the  troops  in  the  Calcutta  district.     This 


A   BRAVE  ACTION.  9 

blow  decided  him  to  resign  his  command  and  return  to 
England.  He  was  now  sixty;  the  climate  of  India  had 
suited  him,  and  he  was  still  a  hale,  active  man.  Being 
generally  popular  he  was  soon  at  home  in  London,  where 
he  took  a  house  in  Hyde  Park  Gardens  and  became  a  regu- 
lar frequenter  of  the  Oriental  and  East  Indian  United 
Service  Clubs,  of  which  he  had  been  for  years  a  member, 
went  a  good  deal  into  society,  and  when  at  home  took  a 
lively  interest  in  his  grandson,  often  running  down  to  his 
niece's  place,  near  Warwick,  to  see  how  he  was  getting  on. 

The  ayah  who  had  come  with  the  child  from  India  had 
been  sent  back  a  few  months  after  they  arrived,  for  his 
mother  had  written  to  Mrs.  Covington  requesting  that  he 
should  have  a  white  nurse.  "  The  native  servants,"  she 
wrote,  "  spoil  the  children  dreadfully,  and  let  them  have 
entirely  their  own  way,  and  the  consequence  is  that  they 
grow  up  domineering,  bad-tempered,  and  irritable.  I 
have  seen  so  many  cases  of  it  here  that  Herbert  and  I  have 
quite  decided  that  our  child  shall  not  be  spoilt  in  this  way, 
but  shall  be  brought  up  in  England  as  English  children 
are,  to  obey  their  nurses  and  to  do  as  they  are  ordered." 

As  Mrs.  Covington's  was  a  large  country  house  the  child 
was  no  trouble;  an  excellent  nurse  was  obtained,  and  the 
boy  throve  under  her  care. 

The  General  now  much  regretted  having  remained  so 
many  years  in  India,  and  if  an  old  comrade  remarked,  "  I 
never  could  make  out  why  you  stuck  to  it  so  long,  Mathie- 
80*v  ;t  was  ridiculous  for  a  man  with  a  large  private  for- 
tune such  as  you  have,"  he  would  reply,  "  I  can  only  sup- 
pose it  was  because  I  was  an  old  fool.  But,  you  see,  I  had 
no  particular  reason  for  coming  home.  I  lost  my  only 
sisrer  three  years  after  I  went  out,  and  had  never  seen  her 
only  daughter,  my  niece  Mary  Covington.  Of  course  I 
hoped  for  another  bout  of  active  service,  and  when  the 
chance  came  at  last  up  in  the  north,  there  was  I  stuck 
down  in  Calcutta.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Jane  I  should 
certainly  have  given  it  up  in  disgust  when  I  found  I  was 
practically  shelved.  But  she  always  used  to  come  down 
and  stay  with  me  for  a  month  or  two  in  the  cool  season, 


10  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

and  as  she  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  I  cared  for,  I 
held  on  from  year  to  year,  grumbling  of  course,  as  pretty 
well  every  Anglo-Indian  does,  but  without  having  suffi- 
cient resolution  to  throw  it  up.  I  ought  to  have  stayed 
at  home  for  good  after  that  mauling  I  got  from  the  tiger; 
but,  you  see,  I  was  never  really  myself  while  I  was  at 
home.  I  did  not  feel  up  to  going  to  clubs,  and  could  not 
enter  into  London  life  at  all,  but  spent  most  of  my  time 
at  my  own  place,  which  was  within  a  drive  of  Mary  Cov- 
ington's, who  had  then  just  married. 

Well,  you  see,  I  got  deucedly  tired  of  life  down  there. 
I  knew  nothing  whatever  of  farming,  and  though  I  tried 
to  get  up  an  interest  in  it  I  failed  altogether.  Of  course 
there  was  a  certain  amount  of  society  of  a  sort,  and  every- 
one called,  and  one  had  to  go  out  to  dinner-parties.  But 
such  dinner-parties!  Why,  a  dinner  in  India  was  worth  a 
score  of  them.  Most  of  them  were  very  stiff  and  formal, 
and  after  the  women  had  gone  upstairs,  the  men  talked  of 
nothing  but  hunting  and  shooting  and  crops  and  cattle; 
so  at  last  I  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but  threw  up  six 
months  of  my  furlough  and  went  out  again.  Yes,  of 
course  I  had  Jane,  but  at  that  time  she  was  but  fourteen, 
and  was  a  girl  at  school;  and  when  I  talked  of  bringing 
her  home  and  having  a  governess,  everyone  seemed  to 
think  that  it  would  be  the  worst'  thing  possible  for  her, 
and  no  doubt  they  were  right,  for  the  life  would  have  been 
as  dull  for  her  as  it  was  for  me. 

"  Of  course  now  it  is  different.  I  feel  as  young  and  aa 
well  as  I  did  twenty  years  ago,  and  can  thoroughly  enjoy 
my  life  in  London,  though  I  still  fight  very  shy  of  the 
country.  It  is  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  know  that  thing8 
are  pretty  quiet  in  India  at  present,  so  that  I  am  losing 
nothing  that  way,  and  if  I  were  out  there  I  should  be  only 
holding  inspections  at  Barrakpoor,  Dumdum,  or  on  the 
Maidan  at  Calcutta.  Of  course  it  was  pleasant  enough 
in  its  way,  for  I  never  felt  the  heat;  but  as  a  man  gets  on 
in  life  he  doesn't  have  quite  so  much  enjoyment  out  of  it 
as- he  used  to  do.  The  men  around  him  are  a  good  deal 
younger  than  himself.    He  knows  all  the  old  messroom 


A  BRAVE  ACTION.  11 

jokes,  and  one  bit  of  scandal  is  like  scores  of  others  he 
has  heard  in  his  time. 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  that  I  have  come  home.  Many  of 
you  here  are  about  my  own  standing,  and  there  is  plenty 
to  talk  about  of  old  friends  and  old  days.  You  were  a 
young  ensign  when  I  was  a  captain,  but  Bulstrode  and  I 
got  our  companies  within  a  few  days  of  each  other.  Of 
course  he  is  only  a  lieutenant-colonel,  while  I  am  a  major- 
general,  but  that  is  because  he  had  the  good  sense  to  quit 
the  service  years  ago.  There  are  scores  of  others  in  the 
club  just  about  my  own  standing,  and  one  gets  one's  rub- 
ber of' whist  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  dine  together  and 
run  down  the  cooking  and  wines,  although  every  one  of 
us  knows  at  heart  that  they  are  both  infinitely  better  than 
we  got  in  India,  except  at  the  clubs  in  the  Presidency 
towns. 

"  Then,  of  course,  we  all  agree  that  the  service  is  going 
to  the  dogs,  that  the  Sepoys  are  over-indulged  and  will 
some  day  give  us  a  lot  of  trouble.  I  keep  my  liver  all 
right  by  taking  a  long  ride  every  morning,  and  altogether 
I  think  I  can  say  that  I  thoroughly  enjoy  myself." 

The  General,  on  his  first  visit  to  England,  had  endeav- 
ored, but  in  vain,  to  find  out  the  family  of  John  Simcoe. 
He  had  advertised  largely,  but  without  effect. 

"  I  want  to  Hnd  them  out,"  he  said  to  his  niece;  "  I  owe 
that  man  a  debt  of  gratitude  I  can  never  repay,  but  doubt- 
less there  are  some  of  his  family  who  may  be  in  circum- 
stances where  I  could  give  them  a  helping  hand.  There 
may  be  young  brothers — of  course  1  could  get  them  cadet- 
ships  in  the  Indian  army — maybe  portionless  sisters." 

"  But  if  he  was  traveling  in  India  for  pleasure  he  must  ' 
have  been  a  well-to-do  young  fellow.     Men  cannot  wan- 
der about   in   the   East    without   having   a   pretty   full 
purse." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt;  but  I  don't  fancy  it  was  so  in  his  case, 
and  he  said  casually  that  he  had  come  in  for  some  money, 
and,  as  he  had  always  had  a  great  desire  to  travel,  he 
thought  that  he  could  do  nothing  better  than  spend  a 
year  or  two  in  the  East,  but  that  he  hoped  before  it  was 


12  TEE  LOST  EEIR. 

gone  he  should  fall  on  his  legs  and  obtain  some  sort  of 
employment.  He  did  not  care  much  what  it  was,  so  that 
it  was  not  quill-driving.  He  thought  that  he  could  turn 
his  hands  to  most  things.  I  laughed  at  the  time,  for  I 
was  by  no  means  sure  that  he  was  in  earnest,  but  I  have 
felt  since  that  he  must  have  been.  If  it  had  not  been  so, 
my  advertisements  would  surely  have  caught  the  eye 
of  someone  who  knew  his  family.  A  family  wealthy 
enough  for  one  of  the  sons  to  start  on  two  years'  travel 
must  be  in  a  fair  position,  whether  in  town  or  country. 
Had  it  been  so  I  should  have  heard  of  it,  and  therefore  I 
think  that  what  he  said  must  have  had  some  foundation 
in  fact.  He  was  certainly  a  gentleman  in  manner,  and  my 
idea  now  is  that  he  belonged  to  a  middle-class  family, 
probably  in  some  provincial  town,  and  that,  having  come 
into  some  money  at  the  death  of  his  father  or  some  other 
relative,  he  followed  his  natural  bent  and  started  on  a 
sort  of  roving  expedition,  thinking,  as  many  people  do 
think,  that  India  is  a  land  where  you  have  only  to  stretch 
out  your  hands  and  shake  the  pagoda  tree. 

"  He  would  have  found  out  his  mistake,  poor  fellow, 
if  he  had  lived.  The  days  are  long  past  when  any  dash- 
ing young  adventurer  can  obtain  a  post  of  honor  in  the 
pay  of  an  Indian  Rajah.  Still,  of  course,  after  what  he 
did  for  me,  had  he  remained  in  India,  and  I  found  that 
he  really  wanted  a  berth,  I  might  have  done  something 
for  him.  I  know  numbers  of  these  Indian  princes,  some 
of  them  intimately,  and  to  some  I  have  been  of  very  con- 
siderable service;  and  I  fancy  that  I  might  have  got  him  a 
berth  of  some  kind  or  other  without  much  difficulty.  Or 
had  he  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  England' I  would 
have  set  him  up  in  any  business  he  had  a  fancy  for.  He 
has  gone  now,  and  I  wish  I  could  pay  someone  he  cared 
for  a  little  of  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe  him.  Well,  I 
have  done  my  best  and  have  failed,  from  no  fault  of  my 
own;  but  remember  that  if  ever  you  hear  of  a  family  of 
the  name  of  Simcoe,  I  want  you  to  make  inquiries 
about  them,  and  to  give  me  full  particulars  concerning 
them." 


A  BRAVE  ACTION.  13 

But  no  news  ever  reached  the  General  on  this  head,  and! 
it  was  a  frequent  cause  of  lamentation  to  him,  when  he 
finally  settled  in  town,  that  although  he  had  again  adver- 
tised he  had  heard  nothing  whatever  of  the  family  of 
which  he  was  in  search. 


CHAPTEE    II. 

IN    THE    SOUTH    SEAS. 

An  island  in  the  Pacific.  The  sun  was  shining  down 
from  a  cloudless  sky,  the  sea  was  breaking  on  the  white 
beach,  there  was  just  sufficient  breeze  to  move  the  leaves 
of  the  cocoanut  trees  that  formed  a  dark  band  behind  the 
eands.  A  small  brig  of  about  a  hundred  tons'  burden  lay 
anchored  a  short  distance  from  the  shore.  The  paint  was 
off  in  many  places,  and  everywhere  blistered  by  the  sun. 
Her  sails  hung  loosely  in  the  gaskets,  and  the  slackness  of 
her  ropes  and  her  general  air  of  untidiness  alike  showed 
the  absence  of  any  sort  of  discipline  on  board. 

In  front  of  a  rough  shanty,  built  just  within  the  line  of 
shade  of  the  cocoanuts,  sat  three  men.  Two  drunken 
sailors  lay  asleep  some  fifty  yards  away.  On  the  stump  of 
a  tree  in  front  of  the  bench  on  which  the  three  men  were 
sitting  were  placed  several  black  bottles  and  three  tin 
pannikins,  while  two  gourds  filled  with  water  and  covered 
with  broad  banana  leaves  stood  erect  in  holes  dug  in  the 
sand. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Atkins,  your  men  are  carrying  it 
on  too  far.  Bill  here,  and  I,  were  good  friends  with  the 
natives;  the  chief  gave  us  wives,  and  we  got  on  well  enough 
with  them.  What  with  the  cocoanuts,  which  are  free  to 
us  all,  and  the  patches  of  ground  to  cultivate,  we  had  all 
we  wanted,  and  with  the  store  of  beads  and  bright  cotton 
we  brought  here  with  us  we  paid  the  natives  to  fish  for 
pearls  for  us,  and  have  collected  enough  copra  to  trade  for 
rum  and  whatever  else  we  want.  You  have  got  all  our 
copra  on  board,  and  a  good  stock  of  native  trumperies,  and 
I  should  recommend  you  to  be  off,  both  for  your  own  sake 
and  ours.  Your  men  have  been  more  or  less  drunk  ever 
since  thev  came  here.     I  don't  mind  a  drinking  bout  my- 

14 


IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS.  15 

self  now  and  again,  but  it  does  not  do  to  keep  it  up. 
However,  it  would  be  no  odds  to  us  whether  your  men 
were  drunk  all  the  time  or  not  if  they  would  but  get 
drunk  on  board,  but  they  will  bring  the  liquor  on  shore, 
and  then  they  get  quarrelsome,  use  their  fists  on  the 
natives,  and  meddle  with  the  women.  Now,  these  fellows 
are  quiet  and  gentle  enough  if  they  are  left  alone  and 
treated  fairly,  but  I  don't  blame  them  for  getting  riled  up 
when  they  are  ill-treated,  and  I  tell  you  they  are  riled  up 
pretty  badly  now.  My  woman  has  spoken  to  me  more 
than  once,  and  from  what  she  says  there  is  likely  to  be 
trouble,  not  only  for  you  but  for  us." 

"Well,  Sim,"  the  man  that  he  was  addressing  said, 
"  there  is  reason  enough  in  what  you  say.  I  don't  care 
myself  a  snap  for  these  black  fellows;  a  couple  of  musket- 
shots  would  send  them  all  flying.  But,  you  see,  though 
I  am  skipper,  the  men  all  have  shares  and  do  pretty  much 
as  they  like.  At  present  they  like  to  stay  here,  and  I 
suppose  they  will  stay  here  till  they  are  tired  of  it." 

"  Well,  Atkins,  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  should  very 
soon  make  a  change,  and  if  you  like,  Bill  and  I  will  help 
you.  You  have  got  six  men;  well,  if  you  shot  three  of 
them  the  other  three  would  think  better  of  it;  and  if  they 
didn't  I  would  settle  them  too." 

"  It  is  all  very  well  talking  like  that,  Sim.  How  could 
I  sail  the  brig  without  hands?  If  I  only  kept  three  of 
them  I  should  be  very  short-handed,  and  if  I  ever  did 
manage  to  get  to  port  they  would  lay  a  complaint  against 
me  for  shooting  the  others.  It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to 
talk;  you  have  lived  here  long  enough  to  know  that  one 
can  only  get  the  very  worst  class  of  fellows  to  sail  with 
one  in  craft  like  this  and  for  this  sort  of  trade.  It  pays 
well  if  one  gets  back  safely,  but  what  with  the  risk  of 
being  cast  ashore  or  being  killed  by  the  natives,  who  are 
savage  enough  in  some  of  the  islands,  it  stands  to  reason 
that  a  man  who  can  get  a  berth  in  any  other  sort  of  craft 
won't  sail  with  us.  But  it  is  just  the  sort  of  life  to  suit 
chaps  like  these;  it  means  easy  work,  plenty  of  loafing 
about,  and  if  things  turn  out  well  a  good  lump  of  money 


16  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

at  the  end  of  the  voyage.  However,  the}'  ought  to  have 
had  enough  of  it  this  job;  the  rum  is  nearly  gone,  and  if 
you  will  come  off  to-morrow  I  will  let  you  have  what  re- 
mains, though  if  they  are  sober  I  doubt  if  they  will  let 
you  take  it  away." 

"  We  will  risk  that,"  the  third  man  said.  "We  are  not 
nice  about  using  our  pistols,  if  you  are.  I  was  saying  to 
Simcoe  here,  things  are  going  a  lot  too  far.  Enough  mis- 
chief has  been  done  already,  and  I  am  by  no  means  sure 
that  when  you  have  gone  they  won't  make  it  hot  for  us. 
Wc  are  very  comfortf^o  here,  and  we  are  not  doing  badly, 
and  I  don't  care  about  being  turned  out  of  it." 

"  The  pearl  fishing  is  turning  out  well?  "  Atkins  asked 
quietly. 

"  It  might  be  worse  and  it  might  be  better.  Anyhow, 
we  are  content  to  remain  here  for  a  bit. 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Jack,"  he  said,  as  the  skipper,  having 
in  vain  tried  to  rouse  the  two  drunken  men,  rowed  himself 
off  to  the  brig.  "  My  woman  told  me  this  morning  that 
there  had  been  a  big  talk  among  the  natives,  and  that 
though  they  did  not  tell  her  anything,  she  thought  that 
they  had  made  up  their  minds  to  wipe  the  whites  out 
altogether.  They  said  that  if  we  hadn't  been  here,  the 
brig  would  not  have  come;  which  is  like  enough,  for 
Atkins  only  put  in  because  he  was  an  old  chum  of  ours, 
and  thought  that  we  should  have  got  copra  enough  to 
make  it  worth  his  while  to  come  round.  Well,  if  the  nig- 
gers only  wiped  out  the  crew,  and  burned  the  ship,  I 
should  say  nothing  against  it,  as  long  as  they  let  Atkins 
alone.  He  has  stood  by  me  in  more  than  one  rough-and- 
tumble  business,  and  I  am  bound  to  stand  by  him.  But 
there  aint  no  discrimination  among  the  niggers.  Besides, 
I  am  not  saying  but  that  he  has  been  pretty  rough  with 
them  himself. 

"  It  makes  all  the  difference  whether  you  settle  down 
and  go  in  for  making  a  pile,  or  if  you  only  stop  to  water 
and  take  in  fruit;  we  agreed  as  to  that  when  we  landed 
here.  When  we  stopped  here  before  and  found  them 
friendly  and  pleasant,  and  we  sa3rs  to  each  other,  '  If  we 


IN  TEE  SOUTE  SEAL  17 

can  but  get  on  smooth  with  them  and  set  them  fishing  for 
us  we  might  make  a  good  thing  out  of  it.'  You  see,  we 
had  bought  some  oysters  one  of  them  brought  up  after  a 
dive,  and  had  found  two  or  three  pearls  in  them. 

"  Well,  we  have  been  here  nine  months,  and  I  don't  say 
I  am  not  getting  tired  of  it;  but  it  is  worth  stopping  for. 
You  know  we  reckoned  last  week  that  the  pearls  we  have 
got  ought  to  be  worth  two  or  three  thousand  pounds,  and 
we  agreed  that  we  would  stay  here  till  we  have  two  bags 
the  size  of  the  one  we  have  got;  but  unless  Atkins  gets 
those  fellows  off,  I  doubt  if  we  shan't  have  to  go  before 
that.  There  is  no  reasoning  with  these  niggers;  if  they 
had  any  sense  they  would  see  that  we  can't  help  these 
things." 

"  Perhaps  what  the  women  tell  us  is  untrue,"  the  other 
suggested. 

"Don't  you  think  that,"  Simcoe  said;  "these  black 
women  are  always  true  to  their  white  men  when  they  are 
decently  treated.  Besides,  none  of  the  natives  have  been 
near  us  to-day.  That,  of  course,  might  be  because  they 
are  afraid  of  these  chaps;  but  from  this  shanty  we  can  see 
the  canoes,  and  not  one  has  gone  out  to-day.  Who  is  to 
blame  them,  when  one  of  their  chiefs  was  shot  yesterday 
without  a  shadow  of  excuse?  I  don't  say  that  I  think  so 
much  of  a  nigger's  life  one  way  or  another;  and  having 
been  in  some  stiff  fights  together,  as  you  know,  I  have 
always  taken  my  share.  But  I  am  dead  against  shooting 
without  some  reason;  it  spoils  trade,  and  makes  it  unsafe 
even  to  land  for  water.  I  have  half  a  mind.  Bill,  to  go 
on  board  and  ask  Atkins  to  take  us  away  with  him;  we 
could  mighty  soon  settle  matters  with  the  crew,  and  if 
there  was  a  fight  and  we  had  to  shoot  them  all,  we  could 
take  the  brig  into  port  well  enough." 

"No,  no,"  said  Bill,  "it  has  not  come  to  that  yet. 
Don't  let  us  give  up  a  good  thing  until  we.  are  sure  that 
the  game  is  up." 

"Well,  just  as  you  like;  I  am  ready  to  run  the  risk  if 
you  are.  It  would  be  hard,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst, 
if  we  couldn't  fight  our  way  down  to  our  canoe,  and  once 


18  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

on  board  that  we  could  laugh  at  them;  for  as  we  have 
proved  over  and  over  again,  they  have  not  one  that  can 
touch  her." 

"  Well,  I  will  be  off  to  my  hut;  the  sun  is  just  setting 
and  my  supper  will  be  ready  for  me."  He  strolled  off  to 
ins  shanty,  which  lay  back  some  distance  in  the  wood 
feimcoe  entered  the  hut,  where  a  native  woman  was 
cooking. 

"N0thing  freSh,  I  suppose?  "  he  asked  in  her  language. 

bke  shook  her  head.  "  None  of  our  people  have  been 
near  us  to-day." 

"  Well,  Polly,"— for  so  her  white  master  had  christened 
her,  her  native  appellation  being  too  long  for  ordinary 
conversation,— "it  is  a  bad  business,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it- 
but  when  these  fellows  have  sailed  away  it  will  soon  come 
all  right  again." 

"  V?1}?  hoPes  so,"  she  said.  "  Polly  very  much  afraid." 
Well,  you  had  better  go  to-morrow  and  see  them,  and. 
tell  them,  as  I  have  told  them  already,  we  are  very  sorry 
for  the  goings  on  of  these  people,  but  it  is  not  our  fault 
1  ou  have  no  fear  that  they  will  hurt  you,  have  you?  Be- 
cause if  so,  don't  you  go." 

..  " They  no  hurt  Poll3r  now>"  she  said;  "they  know  that 
it  I  do  not  come  back  you  be  on  guard." 
_  "  Well,  I  don't  think  there  is  any  danger  at  present,  but 
it  is  as  well  to  be  ready.  Do  you  take  down  to  the  canoe 
three  or  four  dozen  cocoanuts  and  four  or  five  big  bunches 
of  plantains,  and  you  may  as  well  take  three  or  four  gourds 
of  water.  If  we  have  to  take  to  the  boat,  will  you  go  with 
me  or  stay  here?" 

"  Polly  will  go  with  her  master,"  the  woman  said;  "  if 
she  stay  here  they  will  kill  her." 

"  I  am  glad  enough  for  you  to  go  with  me,  Polly,"  he 
said.  You  have  been  a  good  little  woman,  and  I  don't 
know  how  I  should  get  on  without  you  now;  though  why 
they  should  kill  you  I  don't  know,  seeing  that  your  head 
chief  gave  you  to  me  himself." 

['■Kill  everything  belonging  to  white  man,"  she  said 
quietly;  and  the  man  knew  m  his  heart  that  it  would  prob- 


IN  TEE  SOUTH  SEAS.  19 

ably  be  so.  She  put  his  supper  on  the  table  and  then 
made  several  journeys  backwards  and  forwards  to  the 
canoe,  which  lay  afloat  in  a  little  cove  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  away.  When  she  had  done  she  stood  at  the  table 
and  ate  the  remains  of  the  supper. 

An  hour  later  the  man  was  sitting  on  the  bench  outside 
smoking  his  pipe,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  heavy  foot- 
steps among  the  trees.  He  knew  this  was  no  native  tread. 
"  What  is  it,  Bill?  "  he  asked,  as  the  man  came  up. 
"  Well,  I  came  to  tell  you  that  there  is  a  big  row  going 
on  among  the  natives.  I  can  hear  their  tom-tom  things 
beating  furiously,  and  occasionally  they  set  up  a  tremen- 
dous yell.  I  tell  you  I  don't  like  it,  Simcoe;  I  don't  like 
it  a  bit.  I  sent  my  woman  to  see  what  it  was  all  about, 
but  though  she  had  been  away  three  hours,  she  hadn't 
come  back  when  I  started  out  to  talk  it  over  with 
you." 

"  There  has  been  a  biggish  row  going  on  on  board  the 
brig  too,"  the  other  said.  "  I  have  heard  Atkins  storm- 
ing, and  a  good  deal  of  shouting  among  the  men.  I  sup- 
pose you  have  got  your  pearls  all  right  in  your  belt? 
Things  begin  to  have  an  awkward  look,  and  we  may  have 
to  bolt  at  short  notice." 

"  You  trust  me  for  that,  Simcoe;  I  have  had  them  on 
me  ever  since  the  brig  came  in.  I  had  no  fear  of  the 
natives  stealing  them  out  of  my  hut,  but  if  one  of  those 
fellows  were  to  drop  in  and  see  them  he  would  think  noth- 
nig  of  knifing  the  woman  and  carrying  them  off." 
"  I  see  you  have  brought  your  gun  with  you." 
"  Yes,  and  my  pistols  too.  I  suppose  you  are  loaded, 
and  ready  to  catch  up  at  a  moment's  notice?  " 

"Yes;  my  girl  has  been  canying  down  cocoanuts  and 
plantains  to  the  canoe,  so,  if  we  have  to  make  a  bolt,  we 
can  hold  on  comfortably  enough  until  we  get  to  the  next 
island,  which  is  not  above  three  days'  sail,  and  lies  dead  to 
leeward,  as  the  wind  is  at  present.  Still,  Bill,  I  hope  it  is 
not  coming  to  that.  I  think  it  is  likely  enough  they  may 
attack  the  brig  in  their  canoes,  but  they  have  always  been 
bo  friendly  with  us  that  I  really  don't  think  they  can  turn 


20  THE  LOST  HEIE. 

against  us  now;  they  must  know  that  we  cannot  help  these 
people's  doings." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,"  the  other  said,  "  but  you  and 
I  know  half  a  dozen  cases  in  which  the  niggers  have  at- 
tacked a  ship,  and  in  every  case  beachcombers  were  killed 
too." 

Simcoe  made  no  answer;  he  knew  that  it  was  so,  and 
could  hardly  hope  that  there  would  be  an  exception  in 
their  case.  After  thinking  for  a  minute  he  said,  "  Well, 
Bill,  in  that  case  I  think  the  safest  plan  will  be  to  take  to 
the  canoe  at  once.  We  can  stay  away  a  few  weeks  and 
then  come  back  here  and  see  how  matters  stand." 

"  But  how  about  Atkins?  " 

"  Well,  we  will  shout  and  get  him  ashore  and  tell  him 
what  we  think  of  it,  and  give  him  the  choice  of  either  stop- 
ping or  going  with  us.  Nothing  can  be  fairer  than  that. 
If  he  chooses  to  stop  and  harm  comes  of  it  we  cannot 
blame  ourselves.  If  we  come  back  in  a  few  weeks  of 
course  we  should  not  land  until  we  had  overhauled  one  of 
their  canoes  and  found  out  what  the  feeling  of  the  people 
was.  They  will  have  got  over  their  fit  of  rage,  and  like 
enough  they  will  have  said  to  each  other,  '  We  were  better 
off  when  the  two  white  men  were  here.  They  paid  us  for 
our  fishing  and  our  copra,  and  never  did  us  any  harm.  I 
wish  they  were  back  again.'  " 

"  That  is  reasonable  enough,"  the  other  agreed. 
"What  about  the  trade  things?" 

"  Well,  we  have  only  got  some  beads  and  small  knick- 
knacks  left.  Polly  shall  carry  them  down  to  the  canoe; 
we  shall  want  them  for  trading  till  we  come  back  here 
again." 

He  said  a  few  words  to  the  woman,  who  at  once  began 
to  carry  the  things  down  to  the  canoe.  Then  he  went 
down  to  the  beach  and  shouted,  "  Atkins!  " 

"  Hullo!  "  came  back  from  the  brig. 

"  Come  ashore;  we  want  to  talk  to  you  about  something 
particular."  They  saw  the  dinghy  pulled  up  to  the  ship's 
side,  then  Atkins  rowed  ashore. 

"  I  have  been  having  a  row  with  the  crew,"  he  said.     "  I 


m  THE  SOUTH  SEAS.  21 

thought  it  was  coming  to  fighting.  Two  or  three  of  them 
took  up  handspikes,  but  I  drew  my  pistols  and  things 
calmed  down.     What  do  you  want  me  for?  " 

"  Bill  here  has  brought  news  that  there  is  a  row  among 
the  natives.  They  are  beating  their  drums  and  yelling 
like  fiends,  and  we  expect  it  means  mischief.  At  any  rate 
it  comes  to  this:  we  are  so  convinced  that  there  is  going 
to  be  trouble  that  we  mean  to  cut  and  run  at  once.  We 
have  got  enough  grub  put  on  board  our  canoe  to  take  us 
to  the  next  island,  but  we  did  not  want  to  leave  you  in  the 
lurch,  to  be  speared  by  the  niggers,  so  we  have  called  you 
to  offer  you  a  seat  in  the  canoe." 

"  That  is  friendly,"  Atkins  said,  "  but  I  should  lose  the 
ship  and  cargo;  and  pretty  near  all  that  I  have  got  is  in 
her.  Why  should  not  you  two  bring  your  canoe  off  along- 
side and  hoist  her  up?  Then  we  could  get  up  anchor  and 
be  off.  Three  of  the  fellows  are  dead-drunk  and  the 
other  three  half  stupid.  I  would  give  you  each  a  share  in 
the  profits  of  the  vo}rage." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  Simcoe?"  Bill  said. 

"  I  tell  you  straight  I  don't  care*  for  it.  You  and  I  are 
both  good  paddlers,  and  the  canoe  sails  like  a  witch  in  a 
light  wind.  Once  afloat  in  her  and  we  are  safe,  but  you 
can't  say  as  much  for  the  brig.  I  have  sailed  in  her  be- 
fore now,  and  I  know  that  she  is  slow,  unless  it  is  blowing 
half  a  gale.  It  is  like  enough  that  the  natives  may  be 
watching  her  now,  and  if  they  saw  us  get  under  way  they 
would  be  after  her,  and  would  go  six  feet  to  her  one.  As 
to  fighting,  what  could  we  three  do?  The  others  would 
be  of  no  use  whatever.     No,  I  like  our  plan  best  by  far." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  sa3r,"  Atkins  said.  "  It  is 
hard  to  make  a  choice.  Of  course  if  I  were  sure  that  the 
natives  really  meant  mischief  I  would  go  with  you,  but  we 
cannot  be  sure  of  that." 

"  I  feel  pretty  sure  of  it  anyhow,"  Bill  said.  "  My  girl 
would  be  safe  to  follow  me  here  when  she  got  back  and 
found  the  hut  empty,  but  I  am  mightily  afraid  that  some 
harm  has  come  to  her,  or  she  would  have  been  back  long 
before  this.     It  wasn't  half  a  mile  to  go,  and  she  might 


22  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

have  been  there  and  back  in  half  an  hour,  and  she  has 
been  gone  now  over  three  hours,  and  I  feel  nasty  about  it, 
I  can  tell  you.  I  wish  your  crew  were  all  sober,  Atkins, 
and  that  we  had  a  score  of  men  that  I  could  put  my  hand 
on  among  the  islands.  I  should  not  be  talking  about  tak- 
ing to  a  canoe  then,  but  I  would  just  go  in  and  give  it 
them  so  hot  that  they  would  never  try  their  pranks  on 
again." 

"  Have  you  got  all  the  things  in,  Polly?  "  Simcoe  asked 
the  woman,  as  she  crouched  down  by  the  door  of  the  hut. 

"  Got  all  in,"  she  said.  "  Why  not  go?  Very  bad  wait 
here." 

"  Well,  I  think  you  are  about  right.  At  any  rate,  we 
will  go  and  get  on  board  and  wait  a  spear's-throw  off  the 
shore  for  an  hour  or  so.  If  Bill's  Susan  comes  here  and 
finds  we  have  gone  she  is  pretty  safe  to  guess  that  we  shall 
be  on  board  the  canoe  and  waiting  for  her.  What  do  you 
gay  to  that,  Bill?" 

"  That  suits  me;  nothing  can  be  fairer.  If  she  comes 
we  can  take  her  on  board,  if  she  doesn't  I  shall  know  that 
they  have  killed  her,  and  I  will  jot  it  down  against  them 
and  come  back  here  some  day  before  long  and  take  it  out 
of  them.     And  you,  Atkins  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  straight  on  board.  Like  enough  it  is  all  a 
false  alarm,  and  I  aint  going  to  lose  the  brig  and  all  that 
she  has  got  on  board  till  I  am  downright  certain  that 
they " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  the  others  leaped  to  their 
feet  as  a  burst  of  savage  yells  broke  out  across  the  water. 

"By  Heavens,  they  are  attacking  the  ship!"  Simcoe 
cried;  "  they  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  Come  on,  Polly! 
come  on,  Atkins!  we  have  no  choice  now."  Taking  up  his 
arms,  he  started  to  run.  "  Quick,  quick!"  he  cried;  "I 
can  hear  them." 

They  had  gone  but  some  thirty  yards  when  a  number  of 
natives  burst  from  the  wood.  Had  they  arrived  a  minute 
sooner  at  the  hut  none  of  its  occupants  would  have  lived 
to  tell  the  tale,  but  the  impatience  of  those  in  the  canoes 
lying  round  the  brig  had  caused  the  alarm  to  be  given  be- 


IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS.  23 

fore  they  had  placed  themselves  in  readiness  for  a  simul- 
taneous rush  on  the  hut.     There  was  no  further  occasion 
for  silence;  a  wild  yell  burst  out  as  they  caught  sight  of 
the  flying  figures,  and  a  dozen  spears  flew  through  the  air. 
"  Don't  stop  to  fire!  "  Simcoe  shouted;  "we  shall  have 
to  make  a  stand  at  the  boat  and  shall  want  every  barrel." 
They  were  three-quarters  of  the  way  to  the  boat  and 
the  natives  were  still  some  twenty  yards  behind  them. 
Suddenly   Bill   stumbled;   then   with   a   savage   oath   he 
turned  and  emptied  both  barrels  of  his  fowling-piece  into 
the  natives,  and  the  two  leading  men  fell  forward  on  their 
faces,  and  some  shouts  and  yells  told  that  some  of  the 
shots  had  taken  effect  on  those  behind. 
"  Are  you  wounded,  Bill?  "  Simcoe  asked. 
"  Yes,  I  am  hit  hard.    Run  on,  man;  I  think  I  am  done 
for." 

"Nonsense!"  Simcoe  exclaimed.  "Catch  hold  of  my 
arm;  I  will  help  you  along." 

One  native  was  in  advance  of  the  rest.  He  raised  his 
arm  to  hurl  his  spear,  but  the  native  woman,  who  had  all 
along  been  running  behind  Simcoe,  threw  herself  forward, 
and  the  spear  pierced  her  through  the  body.  With  an  ex- 
clamation of  fury  Simcoe  leveled  his  musket  and  shot  the 
native  through  the  head. 

"  Throw  your  arms  round  my  neck,  Bill;  the  poor  girl 
is  done  for,  curse  them.    Can  you  hold  on?  " 
"Yes,  I  think  so,"  he  replied. 

Simcoe  was  a  very  powerful  man,  and  with  his  comrade 
on  his  back  he  ran  on  almost  as  swiftly  as  before. 

"Now,  Atkins,  give  them  every  barrel  that  you  have 
got,  then  lift  Bill  into  the  boat,  and  I  will  keep  them  back. 
I  am  not  going  until  I  have  paid  some  of  them  out  for 
poor  Polly." 

Atkins  fired  his  pistols,  and  with  so  steady  an  aim  that 
each  shot  brought  down  a  savage;  then  he  lifted  Bill  from 
Simcoe's  shoulders  and  laid  him  in  the  canoe. 

"  Get  up  the  sail!  "  Simcoe  shouted.  "  They  will  riddle 
us  with  spears  if  we  paddle."  He  shot  down  four  of  the 
natives  with  his  double-barreled  pistols,  and  then  club* 


24  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

bing  his  gun  threw  himself  with  a  hoarse  shout  upoa 
them.  The  loss  of  seven  of  their  leaders  had  caused  their 
followers  to  hesitate,  and  the  fury  of  Simcoe's  attack  and 
the  tremendous  blows  he  dealt  completed  their  discom- 
fiture, and  they  turned  and  fled  in  dismay. 

"  Now  is  your  time! "  Atkins  shouted;  "  I  have  cut  the 
cord  and  got  the  sail  up."  Turning,  Simcoe  was  in  a  mo- 
ment knee-deep  in  the  water;  pushing  the  boat  off,  he 
threw  himself  into  it. 

"  Lie  down,  man,  lie  down! "  he  shouted  to  Atkins. 
But  the  warning  was  too  late;  the  moment  Simcoe  turned 
the  natives  had  turned  also,  and  as  they  reached  the 
water's  edge  half  a  dozen  spears  were  flung.  Two  of 
them  struck  Atkins  full  in  the  body,  and  with  a  cry  he 
threw  up  his  arms  and  fell  over  the  side  of  the  canoe. 
Then  came  several  splashes  in  the  water.  Simcoe  drew 
the  pistols  from  his  companion's  belt,  and,  raising  himself 
high  enough  to  look  over  the  stern,  shot  two  of  the 
savages  who  were  wading  out  waist  deep,  and  were  but  a 
few  paces  behind. 

The  sail  was  now  doing  its  work,  and  the  boat  was  be- 
ginning to  glide  through  the  water  at  a  rate  that  even  the 
best  swimmers  could  not  hope  to  emulate.  As  soon  as  he 
was  out  of  reach  of  the  spears  Simcoe  threw  the  boat  up 
into  the  wind,  reloaded  his  pistols  and  those  of  his  com- 
rade, and  opened  fire  upon  the  group  of  natives  clustered 
at  the  water's  edge.  Like  most  men  of  his  class,  he  was  a 
first-rate  shot.  Three  of  the  natives  fell  and  the  rest  fled. 
Then  with  a  stroke  of  the  paddle  he  put  the  boat  before 
the  wind  again,  and  soon  left  the  island  far  behind. 

"  This  has  been  a  pretty  night's  work,"  he  muttered. 
"  Poor  little  Polly  killed!  She  gave  her  life  to  save  me, 
and  there  is  no  doubt  she  did  save  me  too,  for  that  fel- 
low's spear  must  have  gone  right  through  me.  I  am 
afraid  that  they  have  done  for  Bill  too."  He  stooped  over 
his  comrade.  The  shaft  of  the  spear  had  broken  off,  but 
the  jagged  piece  with  the  head  attached  stuck  out  just 
over  the  hip.  "  I  am  afraid  it  is  all  up  with  him;  how- 
ever, I  must  take  it  out  and  bandage  him  as  well  as  J  ean." 


IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS.  25 

A  groan  burst  from  the  wounded  man  as  Simooe  with 
eome  effort  drew  the  jagged  spear  from  the  wound-  Then 
he  took  off  his  own  shirt  and  tore  some  strips  off  it  and 
tightly  bandaged  the  wound. 

>k  I  can  do  nothing  else  until  the  morning,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  Polly,  I  have  paid  them  out  for  you.  I  have  shot 
seven  or  eight  and  smashed  the  skulls  of  as  many  more. 
Of  course  they  have  done  for  those  drunkards  on  board 
the  brig.  I  did  not  hear  a  single  pistol  fired,  and  I  expect 
that  they  knocked  them  on  the  head  in  their  drunken 
sleep.  The  brutes!  if  they  had  had  their  senses  about 
them  we  might  have  made  a  fair  fight;  though  I  expect 
that  they  would  have  been  too  many  for  us." 

Just  as  daylight  was  breaking  Bill  opened  Ms  eyes. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  old  man  ?  " 

"  I  am  going,  Simcoe.  You  stood  by  me  like  a  man;  I 
heard  it  all  till  Atkins  laid  me  in  the  boat.  Where  is 
he?" 

"  He  is  gone,  Bill.  Instead  of  throwing  himself  down 
in  the  boat,  as  I  shouted  to  him  directly  he  got  up  the 
sail,  he  stood  there  watching,  I  suppose,  until  I  was  in. 
He  got  two  spears  in  his  body  and  fell  overboard  dead,  I 
have  no  doubt." 

"  Look  here,  Sim!  "  The  latter  had  to  bend  down  his 
ear  to  listen.  The  words  came  faintly  and  slowly.  "  If 
you  ever  go  back  home  again,  you  look  up  my  brother. 
He  is  no  more  on  the  square  than  I  was,  but  he  is  a 
clever  fellow.  He  lives  respectable — Eose  Cottage,  Pen- 
tonville  Hill.  Don't  forget  it.  He  goes  by  the  name  of 
Harrison.  I  wrote  to  him  every  two  or  three  years,  and 
got  an  answer  about  the  same.  Tell  him -how  his  brother 
Bill  died,  and  how  you  carried  him  off  when  the  blacks 
were  yelling  round.  We  were  fond  of  each  other,  Tom  and 
I.  You  keep  the  pearls,  Sim;  he  don't  want  them.  He 
is  a  top-sawyer  in  his  way,  he  is,  and  has  offered  again 
and  again  that  if  I  would  come  home  he  would  set  me  up 
in  any  line  I  liked.  I  thought  perhaps  I  should  go  home 
some  day.  Tom  and  I  were  great  friends.  I  remem- 
ber  "     His  eyelids  drooped,  his  lips  moved.,  and  in 


26  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

another  minute  no  sounds  came  from  them.     He  gave  one 
deep  sigh,  and  then  all  was  over. 

"  A  good  partner  and  a  good  chum,"  Simcoe  muttered 
as  he  looked  down  into  the  man's  face.  "  Well,  well,  I 
have  lost  a  good  many  chums  in  the  last  ten  years,  but 
not  one  I  missed  as  I  shall  miss  Bill.  It  is  hard,  he  and 
Polly  going  at  the  same  time.  There  are  not  many  fel- 
lows that  I  would  have  lain  down  to  sleep  with,  with 
fifteen  hundred  pounds'  or  so  worth  of  pearls  in  my  belt, 
not  out  in  these  islands.  But  I  never  had  any  fear  with 
him.  Well,  well,"  he  went  on,  as  he  took  the  bag  of 
pearls  from  his  comrade's  belt  and  placed  it  in  his  own, 
"  There  is  a  consolation  everywhere,  though  we  might 
have  doubled  and  trebled  this  lot  if  we  had  stopped  three 
months  longer,  which  we  should  have  done  if  Atkins  had 
not  brought  that  brig  of  his  in.  I  can't  think  why  he  did 
it.  He  might  have  been  sure  that  with  that  drunken  lot 
of  villains  trouble  would  come  of  it  sooner  or  later.  He 
wasn't  a  had  fellow  either,  but  too  fond  of  liquor." 


CHAPTER   III. 

A    DEAF    GIRL. 

"  Yes,  Lady  Moulton,  I  will  undertake  the  gypsy  tent 
business  at  your  fete;  that  is  to  say,  I  will  see  to  the  get- 
ting up  of  the  tent,  provide  a  gypsy  for  you,  and  someone 
to  stand  at  the  door  and  let  in  one  visitor  at  a  time  and 
receive  the  money.  Do  you  mean  to  make  it  a  fixed 
charge,  or  leave  it  to  each  to  pay  the  gypsy?" 

"Which  do  you  think  will  be  best,  Hilda?  Of  course 
the  great  thing  is  to  get  as  much  money  for  the  decayed 
ladies  as  possible/' 

"  I  should  say  that  it  would  be  best  to  let  them  give 
what  they  like  to  the  gypsy,  Lady  Moulton." 

"  But  she  might  keep  some  of  it  herself." 

"  I  think  I  can  guarantee  that  she  won't  do  that;  I  will 
get  a  dependable  gypsy.  You  see,  you  could  not  charge 
above  a  shilling  entrance,  and  very  likely  she  would  get 
a  good  deal  more  than  that  given  to  her." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  leave  it  all  to  you.  Spare  no  expense 
about  the  tent  and  its  fitting  up.  I  have  set  my  heart 
upon  the  affair  being  a  success,  and  I  think  everything 
else  has  been  most  satisfactorily  arranged.  It  is  a  very 
happy  thought  of  yours  about  the  gypsy;  I  hope  that  you 
will  find  a  clever  one.  But  you  must  mind  and  impress 
upon  her  that  we  don't  want  any  evil  predictions.  Noth- 
ing could  be  in  worse  taste.  It  is  all  very  well  when  a  girl 
is  promised  a  rich  husband  and  everything  to  match,  but 
if  she  were  told  that  she  would  never  get  married,  or 
would  die  young,  or  something  of  that  sort,  it  would  be  a 
most  unpleasant  business." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  and  will  see  that  everything 

37 


28  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

shall  be  '  couleur  de  rose '  as  to  the  future,  and  that  she 
shall  confine  herself  as  much  as  possible  to  the  past  and 
present." 

"  I  leave  it  in  your  hands,  and  I  am  sure  that  it  will  be 
done  nicely." 

Lady  Moulton  was  a  leading  member  of  society,  a 
charming  woman  with  a  rich  and  indulgent  husband. 
Her  home  was  a  pleasant  one,  and  her  balls  were  among 
the  most  popular  of  the  season.  She  had,  as  her  friends 
said,  but  one  failing,  namely,  her  ardor  for  "  The  Society 
for  Affording  Aid  to  Decayed  Ladies."  It  was  on  behalf 
of  this  institution  that  she  was  now  organizing  a  fete  in 
the  grounds  of  her  residence  at  Eichmond.  Hilda  Cov- 
ington was  an  orphan  and  an  heiress,  and  was  the  ward  of 
her  uncle,  an  old  Indian  officer,  who  had  been  a  great 
friend  of  Lady  Moulton's  father.  She  had  been  ushered 
into  society  under  her  ladyship's  auspices.  She  had,  how- 
ever, rather  forfeited  that  lady's  favorable  opinion  by  re- 
fusing two  or  three  unexceptionable  offers. 

"  My  dear,"  she  remonstrated,  "  no  girl  can  afford  to 
throw  away  such  chances,  even  if  she  is,  as  you  are,  well 
endowed,  pretty,  and  clever." 

The  girl  laughed. 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  am  clever  at  all,  Lady  Moulton. 
I  speak  German  and  French  perfectly,  because  I  have  been 
four  or  five  years  in  Hanover;  but  beyond  that  I  am  not 
aware  of  possessing  any  special  accomplishments." 

"  But  you  are  clever,  my  dear,"  the  other  said  decidedly. 
"The  way  you  seem  to  understand  people's  characters 
astonishes  me.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are 
almost  a  witch." 

"  You  are  arguing  against  yourself,"  the  girl  laughed. 
"  If  I  am  such  a  good  judge  of  character  I  am  not  likely 
to  make  a  mistake  in  such  an  important  matter  as  choos- 
ing a  husband  for  myself." 

Lady  Moulton  was  silenced,  but  not  convinced;  how- 
ever, she  had  good  sense  enough  to  drop  the  subject. 
General  Mathieson  had  already  told  her  that  although  he 
should  not  interfere  in  any  way  with  any  choice  Hilda 


A  DEAF  GIRL.  29 

might  make,  ue  should  make  it  an  absolute  condition  that 
she  should  not  marry  until  she  came  of  age;  and  as  she 
was  at  present  but  eighteen,  many  things  might  occur  in 
the  three  years'  interval. 

On  h<er  return  home,  after  arranging  to  provide  a  gypsy 
for  Lady  Moulton's  fete,  Hilda  related  what  had  occurred 
to  a  girl  friend  who  was  staying  with  her. 

"  Of  course,  Netta,  I  mean  to  be  the  gypsy  myself;  but 
you  must  help  me.  It  would  never  do  foT  me  to  be  sus- 
pected of  being  the  sorceress,  and  so  you  must  be  my 
double,  so  that  I  can,  from  time  to  time,  go  out  and  mix 
with  the  crowd.     A  few  minutes  at  a  time  will  do." 

The  other  laughed.  "  But  what  should  I  say  to  them, 
Hilda?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  as  easy  as  A  B  C.  All  that  you  will  have  to 
do  is  to  speak  ambiguously,  hint  at  coming  changes,  fore- 
see a  few  troubles  in  the  way,  and  prophesy  a  happy  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulties.  I  will  take  upon  myself  the  busi- 
ness of  surprising  them,  and  I  fancy  that  I  shall  be  able 
to  astonish  a  few  of  them  so  much  that  even  if  some  do 
get  only  commonplaces  we  shall  make  a  general  sensation. 
Of  course,  we  must  get  two  disguises.  I  shall  have  a 
small  tent  behind  the  other  where  I  can  change.  It  won't 
take  a  moment — a  skirt,  and  a  shawl  to  go  over  my  head 
and  partly  hide  my  face,  can  be  slipped  on  and  off  in  an 
instant.  Of  course  I  shall  have  a  black  wig  and  some  sort 
of  yellow  wash  that  can  be  taken  off  with  a  damp  towel. 
I  shall  place  the  tent  so  that  I  can  leave  from  behind  with- 
out being  noticed.  As  we  shall  have  the  tent  a  good  deal 
darkened  there  will  be  no  fear  of  the  differences  between 
the  two  gypsies  being  discovered,  and,  indeed,  people  are 
not  likely  to  compare  notes  very  closely/* 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  will  have  your  way  as  usual, 
Hilda." 

"I  like  that!"  the  other  said,  with  a  laugh.  "You 
were  my  guide  and  counselor  for  five  years,  and  now  you 
pretend  that  I  always  have  my  own  way.  Why,  I  cannot 
even  get  my  own  way  in  persuading  you  to  come  and  settle 
over  here.     I  am  quite  sure  that  you  would  get  lots  of 


80  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

pupils,  when  people  understand  the  system  and  its  ad- 
vantages." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  Hilda,  but,  you  see,  in  the  first 
place  I  have  no  friends  here  except  yourself,  and  in  the 
second  it  requires  a  good  deal  of  money  to  get  up  an 
establishment  and  to  wait  until  one  gets  pupils.  My  aunt 
would,  I  know,  put  in  the  money  she  saved  when  you  were 
with  us  if  I  were  to  ask  her,  but  I  wouldn't  do  so.  To  be- 
gin withj  she  regards  that  as  my  fortune  at  her  death. 
She  has  said  over  and  over  again  how  happy  the  knowl- 
edge makes  her  that  I  shall  not  be  left  absolutely  penni- 
less, except,  of  course,  what  I  can  get  for  the  house  and 
furniture,  and  I  would  do  anything  rather  than  sell  that. 
She  admits  that  I  might  keep  myself  by  teaching  deaf 
children,  but,  as  she  says,  no  one  can  answer  for  their 
health.  I  might  have  a  long  illness  that  would  throw  me 
out.  I  might  suddenly  lose  a  situation,  say,  from  the 
death  of  a  pupil,  and  might  be  a  long  time  before  I  could 
hear  of  another.  She  said  to  me  once,  '  I  do  hope,  Netta, 
you  will  never  embark  one  penny  of  the  little  money  that 
will  come  to  you  in  any  sort  of  enterprise  or  speculation, 
however  promising  it  may  look.'  We  had  been  talking  of 
exactly  the  plan  that  you  are  now  speaking  of.  '  The 
mere  furnishing  of  a  house  in  England  large  enough  to 
take  a  dozen  children  would  swallow  up  a  considerable 
sum.  At  first  you  might  have  to  wait  some  time  till  you 
could  obtain  more  than  two  or  three  children,  and  there 
would  be  the  rent  and  expenses  going  on,  and  you  might 
find  yourself  without  money  and  in  debt  before  it  began 
to  pay  its  way;  therefore  I  do  hope  that  you  will  keep  the 
money  untouched  except  to  meet  your  expenses  in  times 
of  illness  or  of  necessity  of  some  kind.  If  you  can  save 
up  money  sufficient  to  start  an  establishment,  it  will, 
I  think,  be  a  good  thing,  especially  if  you  could  se- 
cure the  promise  of  four  or  five  pupils  to  come  to  you  at 
once.  If  in  a  few  years  you  should  see  your  way  to  insure 
starting  with  enough  pupils  to  pay  your  way,  and  I  am 
alive  at  the  time,  I  would  draw  out  enough  to  furnish  the 
house  and  will  look  after  it  for  you.'     That  was  a  great 


A  DEAF  GIRL,  31 

concession  on  her  part,  but  I  certainly  would  not  let  her 
do  it,  for  she  is  so  happy  in  her  home  now,  and  I  know 
that  she  would  worry  herself  to  death." 

"  Well,  Netta,  you  know  I  am  still  ready  to  become  the 
capitalist." 

Both  girls  laughed  merrily. 

"Why  not,  Netta?"  the  speaker  went  on.  "I  know 
you  said  that  you  would  not  accept  money  as  a  loan  even 
from  me,  which,  as  I  told  you,  was  very  stupid  and  very 
disagreeable,  but  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  do 
it  in  a  business  way.  Other  women  go  into  business,  why 
shouldn't  I?  As  you  know,  I  can't  absolutely  touch  my 
money  until  I  come  of  age,  and  it  is  nearly  three  years  be- 
fore that;  still,  I  feel  sure  that  the  General  would  let  me 
have  some  money,  and  we  could  start  the  Institute.  It 
would  be  great  fun.  Of  course,  in  the  first  place,  you 
would  be  principal,  or  lady  superintendent,  or  whatever 
you  like  to  call  yourself,  and  you  would  draw,  say,  five 
hundred  pounds  a  year.  After  that  we  could  divide  the 
profits." 

Again  both  girls  laughed. 

"And  that  is  what  you  call  a  business  transaction?" 
the  other  said.  "  I  know  that  your  guardian  is  very  kind, 
and  indeed  spoils  you  altogether,  but  I  don't  think  that 
you  would  get  him  to  advance  you  money  for  such  a 
scheme." 

"  I  am  really  in  earnest,  Netta." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that  you  would  not  do  it,  if  you  could. 
However,  I  think,  anyhow,  we  had  better  wait  until  you 
come  of  age.  There  is  plenty  of  time.  I  am  only  twenty 
yet,  and  even  in  three  years'  time  I  doubt  whether  I 
should  quite  look  the  character  of  professor  or  lady  super- 
intendent." 

"  Well,  directly  I  get  of  age  I  shall  carry  out  my  part 
of  the  plan,"  Hilda  said  positively,  "  and  if  you  are  dis- 
agreeable and  won't  do  as  I  want  you,  I  shall  write  to  the 
professor  and  ask  him  to  recommend  a  superintendent." 

The  other  laughed  again. 

"  You  would  have  a  difficulty,  Hilda.     You  and  I  are, 


32  THE  LOST  EEIB. 

so  far,  the  only  two  English  girls  who  have  learned  the 
system,  and  either  your  superintendent  would  have  to 
learn  English  or  all  her  pupils  would  have  to  learn  Ger- 
man." 

"  We  will  not  discuss  it  further  at  present,  Miss  Pur- 
cell,"  Hilda  said  with  dignity.  "  Oh,  dear,  those  were 
happy  days  we  had  in  that  dear  old  house,  with  its  pretty 
garden,  when  you  were  thirteen  and  I  was  eleven.  I  have 
got  a  great  deal  of  fun  from  it  since.  One  gets  such  curi- 
ous little  scraps  of  conversation." 

"  Then  the  people  do  not  know  what  you  learned  over 
with  us?" 

"  No,  indeed;  as  you  know,  it  was  not  for  a  year  after  I 
came  back  that  I  became  altogether  the  General's  ward, 
and  my  dear  mother  said  to  me  just  before  she  died,  '  It 
would  be  better  for  you,  dear,  not  to  say  anything  about 
that  curious  accomplishment  of  yours.  I  know  that  you 
would  never  use  it  to  any  harm,  but  if  people  knew  it 
they  would  be  rather  afraid  of  you.'  Uncle  said  the  same 
thing  directly  I  got  here.  So  of  course  I  have  kept  it  to 
myself,  and  indeed  if  they  had  not  said  so  I  should  never 
have  mentioned  it,  for  it  gives  m'e  a  great  deal  of  amuse- 
ment." 

When  Hilda  Covington  was  ten  years  old,  she  had,  after 
a  severe  attack  of  scarlet  fever,  lost  her  hearing,  and 
though  her  parents  consulted  the  best  specialists  of  the 
time,  their  remedies  proved  of  no  avail,  and  at  last  they 
could  only  express  a  hope,  rather  than  an  opinion,  that  in. 
time,  with  added  health  and  strength,  nature  might  repair 
the  damage.  A  year  after  her  illness  Mr.  Covington 
heard  of  an  aurist  in  Germany  who  had  a  European  repu- 
tation, and  he  and  Mrs.  Covington  took  Hilda  over  to 
him.  After  examining  her  he  said,  "  The  mischief  is 
serious,  but  not,  I  think,  irreparable.  It  is  a  case  requir- 
ing great  care  both  as  to  dieting,  exercise,  and  clothing. 
If  it  could  be  managed  I  should  like  to  examine  her  ears 
once  a  fortnight,  or  once  a  month  at  the  least.  I  have  a 
house  here  where  my  patients  live  when  under  treatment, 
but  I  should  not  for  a  moment  advise  her  being  placed 


A  DEAF  GIRL.  o3 

*^ie.  n.  child,  to  keep  in  good  health,  requires  eneerful 
companions.  If  you  will  call  again  to-morrow  I  will 
think  the  matter  over  and  let  you  know  what  I 
recommend. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Covington  retired  much  depressed.  His 
opinion  was,  perhaps,  a  little  more  favorable  than  any  that 
they  had  received,  but  the  thought  that  their  only  child 
must  either  make  this  considerable  journey  once  a  month 
or  live  there  altogether  was  very  painful  to  them.  How- 
ever, on  talking  it  over,  they  agreed  that  it  was  far  better 
that  she  should  "reside  in  Hanover  for  a  time,  with  the 
hope  of  coming  back  cured,  than  that  she  should  grow  up 
•hopelessly  deaf. 

"  It  will  only  be  as  if  she  were  at  school  here,"  Mr.  Cov- 
ington said.  "  She  will  no  doubt  be  taught  to  talk  Ger- 
man and  French,  and  even  if  she  is  never  able  to  converse 
in  these  languages,  it  will  add  to  her  pleasures  if  she  can 
read  them." 

The  next  day  when  they  called  upon  the  doctor  he  said, 
u  If  }Tou  can  bring  yourself  to  part  with  the  child,  I  have, 
I  think,  found  the  very  thing  to  suit  her.  In  the  first 
place  you  must  know  that  there  is  in  the  town  an  establish- 
ment, conducted  by  a  Professor  Menzel,  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  deaf  mutes.  It  is  quite  a  new  system,  and  con- 
sists in  teaching  them  to  read  from  the  lips  of  persons 
speaking  to  them  the  words  that  they  are  saying.  The 
system  is  by  no  means  difficult  for  those  who  have  still, 
like  your  daughter,  the  power  of  speech,  and  who  have 
lost  only  their  hearing.  But  even  those  born  deaf  and 
dumb  have  learned  to  be  able  to  converse  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, though  their  voices  are  never  quite  natural,  for  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  deaf  mutes  are  mutes  only  because 
the\  have  never  learned  to  use  their  tongue.  However, 
happily  that  is  beside  the  question  in  your  daughter's  case. 
I  hope  that  she  will  regain  her  hearing;  but  should  this 
unfortunately  not  be  the  case_,  it  will  at  least  be  a  great 
mitigation  to  her  position  to  be  able  to  read  from  the  lips 
of  those  who  address  her  what  is  said,  and  therefore  to 
converse  like  an  ordinary  person.     I  can  assure  you  that 


34  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

many  ol  Herr  Menzel's  pupils  con  converse  so  easily  and 
rapidly  that  no  one  would  have  the  least  idea  of  the  mis- 
fortune from  which  they  suffer,  as  in  fact  they  feel  no  in- 
convenience beyond  the  fact  that  they  are  not  aware  of 
being  addressed  by  anyone  standing  behind  them,  or 
whose  face  they  do  not  happen  to  be  watching." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  a  blessing!  "  Mrs.  Covington  ex- 
claimed.    "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  system." 

"  No,  it  is  quite  new,  but  as  to  its  success  there  can  be 
no  question.  I  called  upon  Professor  Menzel  last  even- 
ing. He  said  that  as  your  daughter  did  not  understand 
German  the  difficulties  of  her  tuition  would  be  very  great. 
He  has,  however,  among  his  pupils  a  young  English  girl 
two  years  older  than  your  daughter.  She  lives  with  a 
maiden  aunt,  who  has  established  herself  here  in  order 
that  her  niece  might  have  the  benefit  of  learning  the  new 
system.  Here  is  her  name  and  address.  The  professor 
has  reason  to  believe  that  her  income  is  a  small  one,  and 
imagines  that  she  would  gladly  receive  your  daughter  as 
a  boarder.  Her  niece,  who  is  a  bright  girl,  would  be  a 
pleasant  companion,  and,  moreover,  having  in  the  two 
years  that  she  has  been  here  made  very  great  progress,  she 
would  be  able  to  commence  your  daughter's  education  by 
conversing  with  her  in  English,  and  could  act  as  her 
teacher  in  German  also;  and  so  soon  as  the  language  was 
fairly  mastered  your  daughter  could  then  become  a  pupil 
of  the  professor  himself." 

"  That  would  be  an  excellent  plan  indeed,"  Mrs.  Cov- 
ington said,  and  her  husband  fully  agreed  with  her.  The 
doctor  handed  her  a  slip  of  paper  with  the  name,  "  Miss 
Purcell,  2nd  Etage,  5  Koenigstrasse." 

Hilda  had  already  been  informed  by  the  finger  alphabet, 
which  had  been  her  means  of  communication  since  her  ill- 
ness, of  the  result  of  the  conversation  with  the  doctor  on 
the  previous  day,  and  although  she  had  cried  at  the 
thought  of  being  separated  from  her  father  and  mother, 
she  had  said  that  she  would  willingly  bear  anything  if 
there  was  a  hope  of  her  regaining  her  hearing.  She  had 
watched  earnestly  the  conversation  between  the  doctor 


A  DEAF  GIRL.  85 

and  her  parents,  and  when  the  former  had  left  ana  they 
.  explained  what  was  proposed,  her  face  brightened  up. 

"That  will  be  very  nice,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  if  I 
could  but  learn  to  understand  in  that  way  what  people 
say,^  instead  of  watching  their  ringers  (and  some  of  them 
'don't  know  the  alphabet,  and  some  who  do  are  so  slow  that 
one  loses  all  patience),  it  would  be  delightful." 

Before  going  to  see  Miss  Purcell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Covin 
ton  talked  the  matter  over  together,  and  they  agreed  thai 
if  Miss  Purcell  were  the  sort  of  person  with  whom  Hilda 
could  be    happy,    no    plan    could    be    better    than   that 
proposed. 

"It  certainly  would  not  be  nice  for  her,"  Mrs.  Coving- 
ton said,  "  to  be  living  on  a  second  floor  in  a  street;  she 
has  always  been  accustomed  to  be  so  much  in  the  open 
air,  and  as  the  doctors  all  agree  that  much  depends  upon 
her  general  health,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  quite  essential  that 
she  should  be  so  now.  I  think  that  we  should  arrange  to 
take  some  pretty  little  house  with  a  good  garden,  just  out- 
side the  town,  and  furnish  it,  and  that  Miss  Purcell  and 
her  niece  should  move  in  there.  Of  course  we  should  pay 
a  liberal  sum  for  board,  and  if  she  would  agree,  I  should 
say  that  it  would  be  best  that  we  should  treat  the  house  as 
ours  and  should  pay  the  expenses  of  keeping  it  up  alto- 
gether. I  don't  suppose  she  keeps  a  servant  at  present, 
and  there  are  many  little  luxuries  that  Hilda  has  been  ac- 
customed to.  Then,  of  course,  we  would  pay  so  much  to 
the  niece  for  teaching  Hilda  German  and  beginning  to 
teach  her  this  system.  I  dqp't  suppose  the  whole  thing 
would  cost  more  than  three  hundred  pounds  a  year." 

"  The  expense  is  nothing,"  Mr.  Covington  said.  "  We 
could  afford  it  if  it  were  five  times  the  amount.  I  think 
your  idea  is  a  very  good  one,  and  we  could  arrange  for  her 
to  have  the  use  of  a  pony-carriage  for  two  or  three  hours 
a  day  whenever  she  was  disposed.  The  great  thing  is  for 
ber  to  be  healthy  and  happy." 

Ten  minutes  after  they  started  with  Hilda  to  see  Miss 
Purcell,  after  having  explained  to  her  the  plan  they  pro- 
posed.    At  this  she  was  greatly  pleased.     The  thought  of 


36  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

a  little  house  all  to  themselves  and  a  girl  friend  wag  a 
great  relief  to  her,  and  she  looked  brighter  and  happier 
than  she  had  done  since  she  had  lost  her  hearing.  When 
they  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  apartment  on  the  second 
floor,  it  was  opened  by  a  bright-faced  girl  of  thirteen. 

"This  is  Miss  Purcell's,  is  it  not?"  Mrs.  Covington 
asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  the  girl  replied,  with  a  slight  expres- 
sion of  surprise  which  showed  that  visitors  were  very 
rare. 

"  Will  you  give  my  card  to  her  and  say  that  we  shall  be 
glad  if  she  will  allow  us  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with 
her? " 

The  girl  went  into  the  room  and  returned  in  a  minute 
or  two.  "Will  you*  come  in?"  she  said.  "My  aunt  will 
be  glad  to  see  you." 

Miss  Purcell  was  a  woman  of  some  fifty  years  old,  with 
a  pleasant,  kindly  face.  The  room  was  somewhat,  poorly 
furnished,  but  everything  was  scrupulously  neat  and  tidy, 
and  there  was  an  air  of  comfort  pervading  it. 

"  We  have  called,  Miss  Purcell,"  Mrs.  Covington  began, 
"  in  consequence  of  what  we  have  learned  from  Dr.  Hart- 
wig,  whom  we  have  come  over  to  consult,  and  who  has 
been  good  enough  to  see  Professor  Menzel.  He  has 
learned  from  him  that  your  niece  here  is  acquiring  the 
system  of  learning  to  understand  what  is  said  by  watching 
the  lips  of  speakers.  The  doctor  is  of  opinion  that  our 
daughter  may  in  time  outgrow  the  deafness  that  came  on 
a  year  ago,  after  scarlet  fever,  but  he  wishes  her  to  remain 
under  his  eye,  and  he  suggested  that  it  would  be  well  that 
she  should  learn  the  new  system,  so  that  in  case  she  does 
not  recover  her  hearing  she  would  still  be  able  to  mingle 
with  other  people.  Hilda  is  delicate,  and  it  is  necessary 
that  she  should  have  a  cheerful  home;  besides  which  she 
could  not  begin  to  learn  the  system  until  she  had  become 
familiar  with  German.  The  doctor  suggested  that  if  we 
could  persuade  you  to  do  us  the  great  kindness  of  taking 
her  under  your  charge  it  would  be  the  best  possible  *>*> 
rangement." 


A  DEAF  GIRL.  87 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so,  madam,  but  I  fear  that  I 
could  not  accommodate  her,  for  it  is  a  mere  closet  that  my 
niece  sleeps  in,  and  the  other  apartments  on  this  floor  are 
all  occupied.  Were  it  not  for  that  I  should  certainly  be 
glad  to  consider  the  matter.  It  would  be  pleasant  to 
Ketta  to  have  a  companion,  for  it  is  but  dull  work  for  her 
alone  with  me.  We  have  few  acquaintances.  I  do  not 
mind  saying  frankty  that  my  means  are  straitened,  and 
that  I  cannot  indulge  her  with  many  pleasures.  She  is  a 
grandniece  of  mine;  her  father  died  some  years  ago,  her 
mother  three  years  since,  and  naturally  she  came  to  me. 
Shortly  after,  she  lost  her  hearing  through  measles.  Just 
at  that  time  I  happened  to  hear  from  a  German  workman 
of  the  institution  which  had  been  started  in  this  town,  of 
which  he  was  a  native.  I  had  no  ties  in  England,  and  as 
I  heard  that  living  was  cheap  there,  and  that  the  fees  were 
not  large,  I  decided  to  come  over  and  have  her  taught  this 
new  system,  which  would  not  only  add  greatly  to  her  own 
happiness,  but  would  give  her  the  means  of  earning  her 
livelihood  when  she  grew  up;  for  although  I  have  a  small 
pension,  as  my  father  was  an  Excise  officer,  this,  of 
course,  will  expire  at  my  death." 

"  Happily,  Miss  Pureell,  we  are  in  a  position  to  say  that 
money  is  no  object  to  us.  Hilda  is  our  only  child.  We 
have  talked  it  over,  of  course,  and  will  tell  you  exactly 
what  we  propose,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  fall  in  with  the 
arrangement." 

She  then  stated  the  plan  that  she  and  her  husband  had 
discussed. 

"  You  see,"  she  went  on,  "  you  would,  in  fact,  be  mis- 
tress of  the  house,  and  would  have  the  entire  management 
of  everything  as  if  it  was  your  own.  We  are  entirely  igno- 
rant of  the  cost  of  living  here,  or  we  might  have  proposed 
a  fixed  monthly  payment  for  the  expenses  of  servants  and 
outgoings,  and  would  still  do  that  if  you  would  prefer  it, 
though  we  thought  that  it  would  be  better  that  you 
should,  at  the  end  of  each  month,  send  us  a  line  saying 
what  the  disbursements  had  been.  We  would  wish  every- 
thing done  on  a  liberal  scale.    Hilda  has- little  appetite, 


38  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

and  it  will,  for  a  time,  want  tempting.  However,  that 
matter  we  could  leave  to  you.  We  propose  to  pay  a  hun- 
dred a  year  to  you  for  your  personal  services  as  mistress 
of  the  house,  and  fifty  pounds  to  your  niece  as  Hilda's 
companion  and  instructor  in  German  and  in  the  system, 
until  she  understands  the  language  well  enough  to  attend 
Professor  Menzel's  classes.  If  the  house  we  take  has  a 
stable  we  should  keep  a  pony  and  a  light  carriage,  and  a 
big  lad  or  young  man  to  look  after  it  and  drive,  and  to 
keep  the  garden  in  order  in  his  spare  time.  I  do  hope, 
Miss  Purcell,  that  you  will  oblige  us  by  falling  in  with  our 
plans.  If  you  like  we  can  give  you  a  day  to  consider 
them." 

"  I  do  not  require  a  minute,"  she  replied;  "  my  only 
hesitation  is  because  the  terms  that  you  offer  are  alto- 
gether too  liberal." 

"  That  is  our  affair,"  Mrs.  Covington  said.  "  We  want 
a  comfortable,  happy  home  for  our  child,  and  shall  always 
feel  under  a  deep  obligation  to  you  if  you  will  consent." 

"  I  do  consent  most  willingly  and  gratefully.  The 
arrangement  will  be  a  delightful  one  for  me,  and  I  am 
sure  for  Netta." 

Netta,  who  had  been  standing  where  she  could  watch 
the  lips  of  both  speakers,  clapped  her  hands  joyously. 
"Oh,  auntie,  it  will  be  splendid!  Fancy  having  a  house, 
and  a  garden,  and  a  pony-chaise!  " 

"  You  understand  ail  we  have  been  saying  then, 
Netta?  " 

"I  understand  it  all,"  the  girl  replied.  "I  did  noi; 
catch  every  word,  but  quite  enough  to  know  all  that  you 
were  saying." 

"  That  certainly  is  a  proof  of  the  goodness  of  the  sys- 
tem," Mr.  Covington  said,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 
"  How  long  have  you  been  learning?  " 

"  Eighteen  months,  sir.  We  have  been  here  two  years, 
but  I  was  six  months  learning  German  before  I  knew 
enough  to  begin,  and  for  the  next  six  months  I  could  not 
get  on  very  fast,  as  there  were  so  many  words  that  I  did 
not  knowa  so  that  really  I  have  only  been  a  year  at  it. 


A  DEAF  GIRL.  39 

The  professor  says  that  in  another  year  I  shall  be  nearly 
perfect  and  fit  to  begin  to  teach;  and  he  has  no  doubt  that 
he  will  be  able  to  find  me  a  situation  where  I  can  teach  in 
the  daytime  and  still  live  with  my  aunt." 

In  a  week  the  necessary  arrangements  were  all  made. 
A  pretty,  furnished  house,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  out  of  town, 
with  a  large  garden  and  stables,  had  been  taken,  and  Netta 
and  Hilda  had  already  become  friends,  for  as  the  former 
had  learned  to  talk  with  her  fingers  before  she  came  out 
she  was  able  to  keep  up  her  share  of  the  conversation  by 
that  means  while  Hilda  talked  in  reply. 

"  The  fingers  are  useful  as  a  help  at  first/'  Ketta  said, 
"  but  Professor  Menzel  will  not  allow  any  of  his  pupils  to 
use  their  fingers,  because  they  come  to  rely  upon  them  in- 
stead of  watching  the  lips." 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE   GYPSY. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Covington  remained  for  a  week  aftep 
Hilda  was  installed  with  the  Purcells  in  their  new  home. 
To  her  the  house  with  its  garden  and  pretty  pony-carriage 
and  pony  were  nothing  remarkable,  but  Netta's  enjoy- 
ment in  all  these  things  amused  her,  and  the  thought  that 
she,  too,  would  some  day  be  able  to  talk  and  enjoy  life  as 
her  companion  did,  greatly  raised  her  spirits.  Her  father 
and  mother  were  delighted  at  hearing  her  merry  laugh 
mingled  with  that  of  Netta  as  they  walked  together  in  the 
garden,  and  they  went  home  with  lighter  hearts  and  more 
hopeful  spirits  than  they  had  felt  since  the  child's  illness 
began. 

Every  three  or  four  months — for  a  journey  to  Hanover 
was  a  longer  and  more  serious  business  in  1843  than  it  is 
at  present — they  went  over  to  spend  a  week  there.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  from  the  first  that  the  change  was  most 
beneficial  to  Hilda.  Her  cheeks  regained  their  color  and 
her  limbs  their  firmness.  She  lost  the  dull  look  and  the 
apathy  to  whatever  was  going  on  around  her  that  had  be- 
fore distressed  them.  She  progressed  very  rapidly  in  her 
study  of  German,  and  at  the  end  of  six  months  her  conver- 
sations with  Netta  were  entirely  carried  on  in  that  lan- 
guage. She  had  made  some  little  progress  in  reading 
from  her  companion's  lips  and  had  just  entered  at  Herr 
Menzel's  academy.  She  could  now  take  long  walks  with 
Netta,  and  every  afternoon,  or,  as  summer  came  on,  every 
evening,  they  drove  together  in  the  pony-chaise.  With 
renewed  health  and  strength  there  had  been  some  slight 
improvement  in  her  hearing.  She  could  now  faintly  dis- 
tinguish any  loud  sounds,  such  as  those  of  the  band  of  ai 
regiment  marching  past  her  or  a  sudden  peal  of  bells. 


TEE  GYPSY.  41 

"I  think  that  we  shall  make  an  eventual  aire,"  Dr. 
Hartwig  said.  "  It  will  be  slow,  and  possibly  her  hearing 
may  never  be  absolutely  good;  but  at  least  we  may  hope 
that  she  may  be  able  to  eventually  hear  as  well  as  nine 
people  out  of  ten." 

In  another  year  she  could,  indeed,  though  with  diffi- 
culty, hear  voices,  and  when  she  had  been  at  Hanover 
three  years  her  cure  was  almost  complete,  and  she  now 
went  every  morning  to  school  to  learn  French  and  music. 
She  herself  was  quite  content  to  remain  there.  She  was 
very  happy  in  her  life  and  surroundings,  and  could  now 
read  with  the  greatest  facility  from  the  lips,  and  indeed 
preferred  watching  a  speaker's  mouth  to  listening  to  the 
voice.  It  was  a  source  of  endless  amusement  to  her  that 
she  could,  as  she  and  Netta  walked  through  the  streets, 
read  scraps  of  conversation  between  persons  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street  or  passing  in  carriages. 

Another  six  months  and  both  the  doctor  and  Professor 
Menzel  said  that  they  could  do  nothing  more  for  her. 
She  was  still  somewhat  hard  of  hearing,  but  not  enough 
go  to  be  noticeable;  while  she  could  with  her  eyes  follow 
the  most  rapid  speaker,  and  the  Professor  expressed  his 
regret  that  so  excellent  an  example  of  the  benefit  of  his 
system  should  not  be  in  circumstances  that  would  compel 
her  to  make  a  living  by  becoming  a  teacher  in  it.  Netta 
was  now  a  paid  assistant  at  the  institution. 

The  end  of  what  had  been  a  very  happy  time  to  Hilda 
came  abruptly  and  sadly,  for  three  weeks  before  the  date 
when  her  parents  were  to  come  over  to  take  her  home, 
Miss  Purcell,  on  opening  a  letter  that  came  just  as  they 
had  finished  breakfast,  said,  after  sitting  silent  for  a  few 
minutes,  "You  need  not  put  on  your  things,  Hilda;  you 
cannot  go  to  school  this  morning;  I  have  some  bad  news, 
dear — very  bad  news." 

The  tone  of  voice  in  which  she  spoke,  even  more  than 
the  words,  sent  a  chill  into  the  girl's  heart. 

"  What  is  it,  aunt?  "  she  said,  for  she  had  from  the  first 
Bsed  the  same  term  as  Netta  in  addressing  her. 

"  Your  father  has  had  a  serious  illness,  my  dear — a 


42  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

very,  very  serious  and  sudden  illness,  and  you*  mother 
wishes  you  to  go  home  at  once." 

Hilda  looked  at  her  with  frightened,  questioning  ej'es, 
while  every  vestige  of  color  left  her  cheeks.  "  Is  he— is 
he "  she  asked. 

"  Here  is  an  inclosure  for  you,"  Miss  Purcell  said,  as 
she  got  up,  and  taking  Hilda's  hand  in  one  of  hers  drew 
her  with  the  other  arm  close  to  her;  "  your  mother  wrote 
to  me  that  I  might  prepare  you  a  little  before  giving  it  to 
you.  A  terrible  misfortune  has  happened.  Your  dear 
father  is  dead.  He  died  suddenly  of  an  affection  of  the 
heart." 

"  Oh,  no,  no;  it  cannot  be!  "  Hilda  cried. 

"  It  is  true,  my  dear.  God  has  taken  him.  You  must 
be  strong  and  brave,  dear,  for  your  mother's  sake." 

"  Oh,  my  poor  mother,  my  poor  mother!  "  Hilda  cried, 
bursting  into  a  sudden  flood  of  tears,  "  what  will  she 
do!" 

It  was  not  until  some  time  afterwards  that  she  was  suffi- 
ciently composed  to  read  her  mother's  letter,  which  caused 
her  tears  to  flow  afresh.  After  giving  the  details  of  her 
father's  death,  it  went  on: 

"  I  have  written  to  your  uncle,  General  Mathieson,  who 
is,  I  know,  appointed  one  of  the  trustees,  and  is  joined 
with  me  as  your  guardian.  I  have  asked  him  to  find  and 
send  over  a  courier  to  fetch  you  home,  and  no  doubt  he 
will  arrive  a  day  or  two  after  you  receive  this  letter.  So 
please  get  everything  ready  to  start  at  once,  when  he 
comes." 

Two  days  later  General  Mathieson  himself  arrived,  ac- 
companied by  a  courier.  It  was  a  great  comfort  to  Hilda 
that  her  uncle  had  come  for  her  instead  of  a  stranger. 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  come  yourself,  uncle,"  she 
said  as  she  threw  herself  crying  into  his  arms. 

"  Of  course  I  should  come,  dear,"  he  said.  "  Who- 
should  fetch  you  except  your  uncle?  I  had  to  bring  a 
courier  with  me,  for  I  don't  understand  any  of  their  lan- 
guages, and  he  will  take  all  trouble  off  my  hands.  Now 
let  me  look  at  your  face."     It  was  a  pale*  sad  little  face 


THE  GYPSY.  43 

that  was  lifted  up,  but  two  days  of  sorrow  had  not 
obliterated  the  signs  of  health  and  well-being. 

"  "Whiter  than  it  ought  to  be,"  he  said,  "  but  clear  and 
healthy,  and  very  different  from  what  it  was  when  I  saw 
you  before  you  came  out.  You  have  grown  wonderfully, 
child.    Really,   I  should  hardly  have  known  you  again." 

And  so  he  kept  on  for  two  or  three  mintues,  to  allow 
her  to  recover  herself. 

"  Now,  dear,  you  must  take  me  in  and  introduce  me  to 
your  kind  friends  here." 

Hilda  led  the  way  into  the  sitting  room. 

"  I  have  h<  ard  so  much  of  you  and  your  niece,  Miss 
Purcell,"  he  said  as  he  shook  hands  with  her,  "  that  I  do 
do  not  feel  that  you  are  a  stranger.  You  certainly  seem 
to  have  worked  wonders  between  you  for  my  niece,  and  I 
must  own  that  in  the  first  place  I  thought  it  a  mistake  her 
being  here  by  herself,  for  I  had  no  belief  that  either  her 
hearing  would  be  restored  or  that  she  would  ever  be  able 
to  follow  what  people  were  saying  by  only  staring  at 
their  lips." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Hanover  has  agreed  with  her,  sir,  and  it 
is  only  a  small  part  of  the  credit  that  is  due  to  us." 

"  I  must  differ  from  you  entirely,  madam.  If  she  had 
not  been  perfectly  happy  here  with  you,  she  would  never 
have  got  on  as  she  has  done." 

"  Have  you  any  luggage,  sir?  Of  course  you  will  stay 
with  us  to-night." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Miss  Purcell.  We  have  already  been 
to  the  Kaiserhof,  and  long  before  this  my  courier  will 
have  taken  rooms  and  made  every  preparation  for  me. 
You  see,  I  am  accustomed  to  smoke  at  all  times,  and  could 
not  think  of  scenting  a  house,  solely  inhabited  by  ladies, 
with  tobacco.  Now,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  ask 
Hilda  to  put  on  her  bonnet  and  take  a  stroll  with  me." 

"  I  6hall  be  very  gkd  for  her  to  do  so.  It  is  just  getting 
cool  and  pleasant  for  walking,  and  half  an  hour  in  the 
fresh  air  will  do  her  good." 

It  was  an  hour  before  they  returned.  General  Mathie- 
eon  had  gently  told  her  all  there  was  to  tell  of  her  father's 


44  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

death,  and  turning  from  that  he  spoke  of  her  mother,  and 
how  nobly  she  was  hearing  her  troubles,  and  erelong  her 
tears,  which  had  burst  out  anew,  flowed  more  quietty,  and 
she  felt  comforted.     Presently  she  said  suddenly: 

"  What  is  going  to  be  done  here,  uncle  ?  I  have  been 
thinking  over  that  ever  since  it  was  settled  that  I  was  to 
come  home  next  month,  and  I  am  sure  that,  although  she 
has  said  nothing  about  it,  Miss  Purcell  has  felt  the  change 
that  is  coming.  She  said  the  other  day,  '  I  shall  not  go 
hack  to  the  apartments  where  you  found  us,  Hilda.  You 
see,  we  are  a  great  deal  better  off  than  we  were  before. 
In  the  first  place  I  have  had  nothing  whatever  to  spend, 
and  during  the  four  years  the  ridiculously  liberal  sum 
paid  to  ISTetta  and  myself  has  been  all  laid  aside  and  has 
mounted  up  to  six  hundred  pounds.  My  pension  of 
eighty  pounds  a  year  has  also  accumulated,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  small  sum  required  for  our  clothes,  so  that  in 
fact  I  have  nearly  a  thousand  pounds  laid  by.  Netta  is 
earning  thirty  pounds  a  year  at  the  Institute;  with  that 
and  my  pension  and  the  interest  on  money  saved  we  shall 
get  on  very  comfortably.'  I  should  not  like,  uncle,  to 
think  of  them  in  a  little  stuffy  place  in  the  town.  Hav- 
ing a  nice  garden  and  everything  comfortable  has  done  a 
great  deal  for  Miss  Purcell.  Ketta  told  me  that  she  was 
very  delicate  before,  and  that  she  is  quite  a  different 
woman  since  she  came  out  here  from  the  town.  You  can- 
not tell  how  kind  she  has  always  been.  If  I  had  been  her 
own  child,  she  could  not  have  been  more  loving.  In  fact, 
no  one  could  have  told  by  her  manner  that  she  was  not 
my  mother  and  Netta  my  sister." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  ran  down  to  your  mother  before  starting 
to  fetch  you  to  help  in  the  arrangements,  and  she  spoke 
about  Miss  Purcell.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  of 
course,  at  the  end  of  the  four  years  that  you  have  been 
here  the  house  would  be  given  up  and  she  would,  as  you 
say,  go  into  a  much  smaller  place;  but  your  mother  does 
not  consider  that  these  are  ordinary  circumstances,  and 
thinks  that  her  care  and  kindness  have  had  quite  as  much 
to  do  "^th  the  improvement  in  your  health  as  has  the  doc- 


TEE  07PS7.  i5 

i 
tor.  Of  course  we  had  no  time  to  come  to  any  definite 
plan,  but  she  has  settled  that  things  are  to  go  on  here 
exactly  as  at  present,  except  that  your  friend  Netta  will 
not  be  paid  for  acting  as  companion  to  you.  I  am  to  tell 
Miss  Purcell  that  with  that  exception  everything  is  to  go 
on  as  before,  and  that  your  mother  will  need  a  change,  and 
will  probably  come  out  here  in  a  month  or  so  for  some 
time." 

"  Does  she  really  mean  that,  uncle?  " 

"  Certainly,  and  the  idea  is  an  excellent  one.  After 
such  a  shock  as  she  has  had  an  entire  change  of  scene  will 
be  most  valuable;  and  as  she  knows  Miss  Purcell  well,  and 
you  like  the  place  very  much,  I  don't  think  that  any  bet- 
ter plan  could  be  hit  upon.  I  dare  say  she  will  stay  here 
two  or  three  months,  and  you  can  continue  your  studies. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  I  have  no  doubt  some  plan  that 
will  give  satisfaction,  to  all  parties  will  be  hit  upon." 

Hilda  returned  to  Hanover  with  her  mother  a  month 
later.  At  the  end  of  three  months  Mrs.  Covington 
bought  the  house  and  presented  the  deeds  to  Miss  Purcell, 
who  had  known  nothing  whatever  of  her  intentions. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  accepting  it,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  But  you  cannot  help  accepting  it,  dear  Miss  Purcell; 
here  are  the  deeds  in  your  name.  The  house  will  be 
rather  large  for  you  at  present,  but  in  a  few  years,  indeed 
in  two  or  three  years,  Netta  could  begin  to  take  a  few 
pupils.  As  soon  as  she  is  ready  to  do  so  I  shall,  of  course, 
mention  it  among  my  friends,  and  be  able  to  send  a  few 
children,  whose  parents  woidd  be  ready  to  pay  well  to 
have  them  taught  this  wonderful  method  of  brightening 
their  lives,  which  is  at  present  quite  unknown  in  Eng- 
land." 

So  it  was  arranged;  but  a  few  months  after  her  return 
to  England  Mrs.  Covington,  who  had  never  altogether  re- 
covered from  the  shock  of  her  husband's  death,  died  after 
a  short  illness,  and  Hilda  became  an  inmate  of  her  uncle"* 
hou>e.  Since  that  time  three  years  had  elapsed,  and 
Hilda  was  now  eighteen,  and  Netta  was  over  for  a  two 
months'  visit. 


46  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

The  scene  in  the  grounds  of  Lady  Moulton's  charming 
villa  at  Richmond,  a  fortnight  after  the  conversation  be- 
tween that  lady  and  Hilda,  was  a  gay  one.  Everyone  in 
society  had  been  invited  and  there  were  but  few  refusals; 
the  weather  was  lovely,  and  all  agreed  that  even  at  Ascot 
the  costumes  were  not  brighter  or  more  varied. 

Although  the  fete  was  especially  on  behalf  of  a  charity, 
no  admission  fees  were  charged  to  guests,  but  everyone 
understood  that  it  would  be  his  duty  to  lay  out  money 
at  the  various  picturesque  tents  scattered  about  under 
the  trees.  In  these  were  all  the  most  popular  entertainers 
of  the  day.  In  one  pavilion  John  Parry  gave  a  short 
entertainment  every  half-hour.  In  a  larger  one  Mario, 
Grisi,  Jenny  Lind,  and  Alboni  gave  short  concerts,  and 
high  as  were  the  prices  of  admission,  there  was  never  a  seat 
vacant.  Conjurers  had  a  tent,  electro-biologists— then 
the  latest  rage  from  the  United  States— held  their  seances, 
and  at  some  distance  from  the  others  Richardson's  booth 
was  in  full  swing.  The  Grenadiers'  band  and  a  string 
band  played  alternately. 

Not  the  least  attraction  to  many  was  the  gypsy  tent 
erected  at  the  edge  of  a  thick  shrubbery,  for  it  soon  be- 
came rumored  that  the  old  gypsy  woman  there  was  no 
ordinary  impostor,  but  really  possessed  of  extraordinary 
powers  of  palmistry.  Everything  had  been  done  to  add 
to  the  air  of  mystery  pervading  the  place.  Externally  it 
was  but  a  long,  narrow  marquee.  On  entering,  the  in- 
quirer was  shown  by  an  attendant  to  a  seat  in  an  apart- 
ment carpeted  in  red,  with  black  hangings  and  black  cloth 
lining  the  roof.  From  this  hung  a  lamp,  all  other  light 
being  excluded.  As  each  visitor  came  out  from  the  inner 
apartment  the  next  in  order  was  shown  in,  and  the  heavy 
curtains  shut  off  all  sound  of  what  was  passing.  Here 
sat  an  apparently  aged  gypsy  on  an  old  stump  of  a  tree. 
A  fire  burned  on  the  ground  and  a  pot  was  suspended  by 
a  tripod  over  it;  a  hood  above  this  carried  the  smoke  out 
of  the  tent.  The  curtains  here  were  red;  the  roof,  as  in 
the  other  compartment,  black,  but  sprinkled  with  gold  and 
silver  stars.     A  stool  was  placed  for  the  visitor  close 


THE  GYPSY.  47 

enough  to  the  gypsy  for  the  latter  to  examine  her  hand 
by  the  light  of  two  torches,  which  were  fastened  to  a 
rough  sapling  stuck  in  the  ground. 

Hilda  possessed  every  advantage  for  making  thejnost  of 
the  situation.  Owing  to  her  intimacy  with  Lady  Moul- 
ton,  and  her  experience  for  a  year  in  the  best  London 
society,  she  knew  all  its  gossip,  while  she  had  gathered 
much  more  than  others  knew  from  the  conversations  both 
of  the  dancers  and  the  lookers-on. 

The  first  to  enter  was  a  young  man  who  had  been 
laughingly  challenged  by  the  lady  he  was  walking  with  to 
go  in  and  have  his  fortune  told. 

"  Be  seated,  my  son,"  the  old  woman  said;  "  give  me 
your  hand  and  a  piece  of  money." 

With  a  smile  he  handed  her  half  a  sovereign.  She 
crossed  his  palm  with  it  and  then  proceeded  attentively  to 
examine  the  lines. 

"  A  fair  beginning,"  she  said,  "  and  then  troubles  and 
difficulties.  Here  I  see  that,  some  three  years  back,  there 
is  the  mark  of  blood;  you  won  distinction  in  war.  Then 
there  is  a  cross-mark  which  would  show  a  change.  Some 
good  fortune  befell  you.  Then  the  lines  darken.  Things 
go  from  bad  to  worse  as  they  proceed.  You  took  to  a 
vice — cards  or  horse-racing.  Here  are  evil  associates,  but 
there  is  a  white  line  that  runs  through  them.  There  is  a 
girl  somewhere,  with  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes,  who  loves 
you,  and  whom  you  love,  and  whose  happiness  is  im- 
periled by  this  vice  and  these  associates.  Beyond,  there 
is  another  cross-line  and  signs  of  a  conflict.  What  bap- 
pens  after  will  depend  upon  yourself.  Either  the  white 
line  and  the  true  love  will  prove  too  powerful  for  the  bad 
influences  or  these  will  end  in  ruin  and — ah!  sudden  and 
violent  death.  Your  future,  therefore,  depends  upon  your- 
self, and  it  is  for  you  to  say  which  influence  must  triumph. 
That  is  all." 

Without  a  word  he  went  out. 

"  You  look  pale,  Mr.  Desmond ,"  the  lady  said  when  he 
rejoined  her.     "  What  has  she  told  you?  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  tell  you,  Mrs.  Markham,"  he  said 


48  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

seriously.  "  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  a  joke,  but  it  is 
very  far  from  being  one.  Either  the  woman  is  a  witch  or 
she  knew  all  about  me  personally,  which  is  barely  within 
the  limits  of  possibility.  At  any  rate  she  has  given  me 
something  to  think  of." 

"  I  will  try  myself,"  the  lady  said;  "  it  is  very  interest- 
ing." 

"  I  should  advise  you  not  to,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"Nonsense!"  she  laughed;  "I  have  no  superstitions. 
I  will  go  in  and  hear  what  she  has  to  say."  And  leaving 
him,  she  entered  the  tent. 

The  gypsy  examined  her  hand  in  silence.  "  I  would 
rather  not  tell  you  what  I  see,"  she  said  as  she  dropped 
the  hand.  "  Oh,  ridiculous !  "  the  lady  exclaimed.  "  I 
have  crossed  your  palm  with  gold,  and  I  expect  to  get  my 
money's  worth,"  and  she  held  out  her  hand  again.    ■ 

The  gypsy  again  examined  it. 

"  You  stand  at  the  crossing  of  the  ways.  There  are 
two  men — one  dark,  quiet,  and  earnest,  who  loves  you. 
You  love  him,  but  not  as  he  loves  you;  but  your  line  of 
life  runs  smoothly  until" the  other  line,  tbat  of  a  brown 
man,  becomes  mixed  up  in  it.  He  loves  you  too,  with  a 
hot,  passionate  love  that  would  soon  fade.  You  had  a 
letter  from  him  a  day  or  two  back.  Last  night,  as  he 
passed  you  in  a  dance,  he  whispered,  '  I  have  not  had  an 
answer,'  and  the  next  time  he  passed  you.  you  replied, 
'  You  must  give  me  another  day  or  two.'  Upon  the  an- 
swer you  give  the  future  of  your  life  will  depend.  Here 
is  a  broad,  fair  line,  and  here  is  a  short,  jagged  one,  telling 
of  terrible  troubles  and  misery.  It  is  for  you  to  decide 
which  course  is  to  be  yours." 

As  she  released  her  hold  of  the  hand  it  dropped  nerve- 
less. The  gypsy  poured  out  a  glass  of  water  from  a  jug  by 
her  side,  but  her  visitor  waved  it  aside,  and  with  a  great 
effort  rose  to  her  feet,  her  face  as  pale  as  death. 

"  My  God!  "  she  murmured  to  herself,  "  this  woman  is 
really  a  witch." 

"  They  do  not  burn  witches  now,"  the  gypsy  said;  "  I 
*mlv  ^ead  what  I  see  on  the  palm.     Ycu  cannot  deny  that 


THE  GYPSY.  49 

what  i  nave  said  is  true.  Stay  a  moment  and  drink  a 
glass  of  wine;  you  need  it  before  you  go  out." 

She  took  a  bottle  of  wine  from  behind  her  seat,  emptied 
the  water  on  to  the  earth,  half  filled  a  tumbler,  and  held 
it  out.  The  frightened  woman  felt  that  indeed  she 
needed  it  before  going  out  into  the  gay  scene,  and  tossed 
it  off. 

"  Thank  you!  "  she  said.  "  Whoever  you  are,  I  thank 
you.  You  have  read  my  fate  truly,  and  have  helped  me 
to  decide  it." 

Desmond  was  waiting  for  her  when  she  came  out,  but 
she  passed  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  You  are  right!  "  she  said.     "  She  is  a  witch  indeed! " 

Few  other  stories  told  were  as  tragic,  but  in  nearly 
every  case  the  visitors  retired  puzzled  at  the  knowledge 
the  gypsy  possessed  of  their  life  and  surroundings,  and  it 
soon  became  rumored  that  the  old  woman's  powers  were 
something  extraordinary,  and  the  little  ante-room  was 
kept  filled  with  visitors  waiting  their  turn  for  an  audience. 
No  one  noticed  the  long  and  frequent  absences  of  Hilda 
Covington  from  the  grounds.  The  tent  had  been  placed 
with  its  back  hiding  a  small  path  through  the  shrubbery. 
Through  a  peep-hole  arranged  in  the  curtain  she  was  able 
to  see  who  was  waiting,  and  each  time  before  leaving  said 
a  few  words  as  to  their  lives  which  enabled  Netta  to  sup- 
port the  character  fairly.  "When  the  last  guest  had  de- 
parted and  she  joined  Lady  Moulton,  she  handed  over  a 
bag  containing  nearly  a  hundred  pounds. 

"  I  have  deducted  five  pounds  for  the  gypsy,"  she  said, 
"  and  eight  pounds  for  the  hire  of  the  tent  and  its 
fittings." 

"  That  is  at  least  five  times  as  much  as  I  expected, 
Hilda.  I  have  heard  all  sorts  of  marvelous  stories  of  the 
power  of  your  old  woman.  Several  people  told  me  that 
she  seemed  to  know  all  about  them,  and  told  them  things 
that  they  believed  were  only  known  to  themselves.  But 
how  did  she  get  so  much  money?" 

Hilda  laughed.  "  I  hear  that  they  began  with  half- 
sovereigns,  but  as  soon  as  they  heard  of  her  real  powers, 


50  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

they  did  not  venture  to  present  her  with  anything  less 
than  a  sovereign,  and  in  a  good  many  cases  they  gave  more 
- — no  doubt  to  propitiate  her  into  giving  them  good  for- 
tunes. You  see,  each  visitor  only  had  two  or  three 
minutes'  interview,  so  that  she  got  through  from  twenty 
to  thirty  an  hour;  and  as  it  lasted  four  hours  she  did  ex- 
ceedingly well." 

"  But  who  is  the  gypsy,  and  where  did  you  find  her?  " 

"  The  gypsy  has  gone,  and  is  doubtless  by  this  time  in 
some  caravan  or  gypsy  tent.  I  do  not  think  that  you  will 
ever  find  her  again." 

"  I  should  have  suspected  that  you  played  the  gypsy 
yourself,  Hilda,  were  it  not  that  I  saw  you  half  a  dozen 
times." 

"  I  have  no  skill  in  palmistry,"  the  girl  laughed,  "  and 
certainly  have  not  been  in  two  places  at  once.  I  did  my 
duty  and  heard  Jenny  Lind  sing  and  Parry  play,  though 
I  own  that  I  did  not  patronize  Kichardson's  booth." 

"  Well,  it  is  extraordinary  that  this  old  woman  should 
know  the  history  of  such  a  number  of  people  as  went  into 
her  tent,  few  of  whom  she  could  ever  have  heard  of  even 
by  name,  to  say  nothing  of  knowing  them  by  sight." 

Several  ladies  called  within  the  next  few  days,  specially 
to  inquire  from  Lady  Moulton  about  the  gypsy. 

"  Everyone  is  talking  about  her,"  one  said.  "  Cer- 
tainly she  told  me  several  things  about  the  past  that  it 
was  hardly  possible  that  a  woman  in  her  position  could 
know.  I  have  often  heard  that  gypsies  pick  up  informa- 
tion from  servants,  or  in  the  country  from  village  gossip; 
but  at  least  a  hundred  people  visited  this  woman's  tent, 
and  from  what  I  hear  everyone  was  as  astonished  as  I  was 
myself  at  her  knowledge  of  their  family  matters.  It  is 
said  that  in  some  cases  she  went  farther  than  this,  and  told 
them  things  about  the  present  known  only  to  themselves 
and  two  or  three  intimate  friends.  Some  of  them  seemed 
to  have  been  quite  seriously  affected.  I  saw  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  just  after  she  had  left  the  tent,  and  she  was  as  white 
as  a  sheet,  and  I  know  she  drove  away  a  few  minutes  after- 
.  wards '" 


THE  0TP8T.  51 

To  all  inquiries  Lady  Moulton  simply  replied: 
"  I  know  no  more  about  the  gypsy  than  you  do.  Miss 
Covington  took  the  entire  management  of  the  gypsy  tent 
off  my  hands,  saw  to  the  tent  being  erected,  and  engaged 
the  gypsy.  Where  she  picked  her  up  I  have  no  idea,  but 
I  fancy  that  she  must  have  got  her  from  their  encamp- 
ment on  Ham  Common.  She  turned  the  matter  off  when 
I  asked  her  point-blank,  and  I  imagine  that  she  must  have 
given  the  old  crone  a  promise  not  to  let  it  be  known  who 
she  was..  They  are  curious  people,  the  gypsies,  and  for 
aught  I  know  may  have  an  objection  to  any  of  the  tribe 
going  to  a  gathering  like  ours  to  tell  fortunes." 

Some  appeals  were  made  to  Hilda  personally;  but  Lady 
Moulton  had  told  her  the  answer  she  had  given,  and  tak- 
ing her  cue  from  it  she  was  able  to  so  shape  her  replies 
that  her  questioners  left  her  convinced  that  she  had 
really,  while  carrying  out  Lady  Moulton's  instructions, 
lighted  on  a  gypsy  possessing  some  of  the  secrets  of  thi? 
almost  forgotten  science  of  palmistry. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A     GAMBLING     DEN. 

In  a  corner  of  one  of  the  winding  courts  that  lie  behind 
Fleet  Street  stood  a  dingy-looking  house,  the  lamp  over 
the  door  bearing  the  words,  "  Billiards  and  Pool."  Dur- 
ing the  daytime  no  one  would  be  seen  to  eater  save  be- 
tween the  hours  of  twelve  and  two,  when  perhaps  a  dozen 
young  fellows,  after  eating  a  frugal  lunch,  would  resort 
there  to  pass  their  hour  out  of  office  in  smoking  and  a 
game  of  billiards.  Of  an  evening,  however,  there  were 
lights  in  every  window,  and  the  click  of  balls  could  be 
heard  from  the  ground  floor  and  that  above  it.  In  each  of 
these  there  were  two  tables,  and  the  play  continued  unin- 
terruptedly from  seven  until  eleven  or  half-past. 

The  lights  on  the  second  floor,  however,  often  burned 
until  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  here 
that  the  proprietor  reaped  by  far  the  larger  proportion  of 
his  profits.  While  the  billiard-room  windows  generally 
stood  open,  those  of  the  large  room  on  the  second  floor 
were  never  raised,  and  when  the  lights  below  were  ex- 
tinguished, heavy  curtains  were  dropped  across  the  win- 
dows to  keep  both  the  light  and  the  sounds  within  from 
being  seen  or  heard  in  the  court  below.  Here  was  a  large 
roulette  table,  while  along  the  sides  of  the  room  were 
smaller  tables  for  those  who  preferred  other  games. 
Here  almost  every  evening  some  thirty  or  forty  men 
assembled.  Of  these,  perhaps  a  third  were  clerks  or  shop 
assistants,  the  remainder  foreigners  of  almost  every 
nationality.  Betting  lists  were  exposed  at  one  end  of  the 
room.  Underneath  these  a  bookmaker  had  a  small  table, 
and  carried  on  his  trade. 

Tu  1851  there  were  a  score  of  such  places  in  the  neigh- 

52 


A   GAMBLING  DEN  53 

borhooa  of  the  Strand  and  Fleet  Street,  but  few  did  a 
larger  business  than  this.  It  was  generally  understood 
that  Wilkinson,  the  proprietor,  had  been  a  soldier;  but  the 
belief  originated  rather  from  his  upright  carriage  and  a 
certain  soldierly  walk  than  from  anything  he  had  himself 
said,  and  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  whom  even  the  most 
regular  of  the  frequenters  of  his  establishment  cared  to 
question.  He  was  a  tall  man,  some  five-and-forty  years  of 
age,  taciturn  in  speech,  but  firm  in  manner  while  business 
was  going  on.  He  kept  admirable  order  in  the  place.  He 
was  generally  to  be  found  in  the  room  on  the  second  floor, 
but  when  a  whistle  blew,  and  one  of  the  markers  whis- 
pered up  a  speaking-tube  that  there  was  a  dispute  going 
on  between  the  players  or  lookers-on,  he  was  at  once  upon 
the  spot. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,''  he  would  sa}r,  interposing  between 
them,  "  you  know  the  rules  of  this  establishment;  the 
marker's  decision  on  all  points  connected  with  the  game 
is  final,  and  must  be  accepted  by  both  parties.  I  will  have 
no  quarrels  or  disputes  here,  and  anyone  making  a  row 
goes  straight  out  into  the  street,  and  never  comes  in  here 
again." 

In  the  vast  majority  of  cases  this  settled  the  matter; 
but  when  the  men  were  flushed  with  liquor,  and  inclined 
to  continue  the  dispute,  they  were  seized  by  the  collar  by 
Wilkinson's  strong  arm  and  were  summarily  ejected  from 
the  house.  In  the  inner  room  he  preserved  order  as 
strictly,  but  had  much  more  difficulty  in  doing  so  among 
the  foreign  element.  Here  quarrels  were  not  uncommon, 
and  knives  occasionally  drawn;  but  Wilkinson  was  a 
powerful  man  and  a  good  boxer,  and  a  flush  hit  from  the 
shoulder  always  settled  the  business. 

But  though  stern  in  the  management  of  his  establish- 
ment, Wilkinson  was  popular  among  its  frequenters.  He 
was  acquainted  with  most  of  their  callings  and  business. 
Indeed,  none  were  admitted  to  the  upper  room  unless  well 
introduced  by  habitues,  or  until  he  had  made  private  in- 
quiries concerning  them.  Thus  he  knew  among  the  for- 
eigners whom  he  could  trust,  and  how  far,  when,  after  a 


54  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

run  of  ill  luck,  they  came  to  him  and  asked  him  for  a 
loan,  he  could  venture  to  go. 

With  the  English  portion  of  his  customers  he  was  still 
more  liberal.  He  knew  that  he  should  not  be  a  loser 
from  transactions  with  them;  they  must  repay  him,  for 
were  it  known  to  their  employers  that  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  gambling,  it  would  mean  instant  dismissal. 
There  were  among  them  several  lawyers'  clerks,  some  of 
whom  were,  in  comparison  with  their  means,  deeply  in  debt 
to  him.  One  or  other  of  those  he  would  often  invite  up  to 
his  private  room  on  the  floor  above,  where  a  bottle  of 
good  wine  would  be  on  the  table,  a  box  of  excellent  cigars 
beside  it,  and  here  they  would  chat  more  or  less  comfort- 
ably until  the  roulette  room  opened. 

Mr.  Wilkinson  made  no  pretense  that  these  meetings 
were  simply  for  the  purpose  of  drinking  his  wine  and 
smoking  his  cigars.  "lama  straightforward  man,"  he 
would  say,  "  and  business  is  business.  I  oblige  you,  and 
I  expect  you  to  oblige  me.  I  have  always  had  a  fancy 
that  there  is  money  to  be  made  in  connection  with  law- 
yers' businesses.  There  are  missing  heirs  to  be  hunted 
up;  there  are  provisos  in  deeds,  of  whose  existence  some 
one  or  other  would  give  a  good  deal  to  know.  Now,  I  am 
sure  that  you  are  not  in  a  position  to  pay  me  the  amount 
I  have  lent  you,  and  for  which  I  hold  your  I.  0.  XL's.  I 
have  no  idea  of  pressing  you  for  the  money,  and  shall  be 
content  to  let  it  run  on  so  long  as  you  will  let  me  know 
what  is  being  done  at  your  office.  The  arrangement  is 
that  you  will  tell  me  anything  that  you  think  can  be  used 
to  advantage,  and  if  money  is  made  out  of  any  informa- 
tion you  may  give  me,  I  will  engage  to  pay  you  a  third  of 
what  it  brings  in.  Now,  I  call  that  a  fair  bargain.  What 
do  you  say?  " 

In  some  cases  the  offer  was  closed  with  at  once;  in 
others  it  was  only  agreed  to  after  threats  that  the  debt 
must  be  at  once  paid  or  an  application  would  be  made 
forthwith.  So  far  the  gambling-house  keeper's  expecta- 
tions had  not  met  with  the  success  he  had  looked  for. 
He  had  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  iD  endeavoring  to  find 


A  GAMBLING  DEN  55 

the  descendants  of  persons  who  stood  in  the  direct  line  of 
succession  to  properties,  but  of  whom  all  clew  had  been 
lost.  He  had  indeed  obtained  an  insight  into  various 
family  differences  that  had  enabled  him  to  successfully 
extort  blackmail,  but  his  gains  in  this  way  had  not,  so  far, 
recouped  him  for  the  sums  he  had,  as  he  considered,  in- 
vested in  the  speculation. 

He  was,  however,  a  patient  man,  and  felt,  no  doubt,  that 
60oner  or  later  he  should  be  able  to  make  a  coup  that 
would  set  him  up  for  life.  Still  he  was  disappointed;  his 
idea  had  been  the  one  held  by  many  ignorant  persons,  that 
lawyers  are  as  a  class  ready  to  resort  to  tricks  of  all  kinds, 
in  the  interests  of  their  clients  or  themselves.  He  had 
found  that  he  had  been  altogether  wrong,  and  that  al- 
though there  were  a  few  firms  which,  working  in  connection 
with  money-lenders,  financial  agents,  and  the  lowest  class 
of  bill  discounters,  were  mixed  up  in  transactions  of  a 
more  or  less  shady  character,  these  were  the  black  sheep 
of  the  profession,  and  that  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases 
the  business  transacted  was  purely  technical  and  con- 
nected with  the  property  of  their  clients.  Nevertheless, 
he  took  copious  notes  of  all  he  learned,  contending  that 
there  was  no  saying  what  might  come  in  useful  some  day. 

"  Well,  Dawkins,"  he  said  one  day  to  a  dark-haired 
young  fellow  with  a  handsome  face  that  already  showed 
traces  of  the  effect  of  late  hours  and  dissipation,  "  I  sup- 
pose it  is  the  usual  thing;  the  lawsuit  as  to  the  right  of 
way  at  Brownsgrove  is  still  going  on,  the  settlements  in 
Mr.  Cochrane's  marriage  to  Lady  Gertrude  Ivory  are 
being  drawn  up,  and  other  business  of  the  same  sort. 
You  never  give  me  a  scrap  of  information  that  is  of  the 
Blightest  use.  I  am  afraid  that  your  firm  is  altogether 
too  eminently  respectable  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
doubtful  transactions." 

"  I  told  you  so  from  the  first,  Wilkinson;  that  whatever 
your  game  might  be,  there  would  be  nothing  in  our  office 
that  could  be  of  the  least  use  to  you,  even  if  you  had 
copies  of  every  deed  drawn  up  in  it.  Ours  is  what  you 
might  call  a  family  business.     Our  clients  have  for  the 


66  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

most  part  dealt  with  the  firm  for  the  last  hundred  years; 
that  is  to  say,  their  families  have.  We  have  drawn  their 
wills,  their  marriage  settlements,  their  leases,  and  done 
everything  relating  to  their  property  for  years  and  years. 
My  own  work  for  the  last  two  or  three  days  has  heen  draft- 
ing and  engrossing  the  will  of  a  General  Mathieson,  whose 
father  and  grandfather  were  our  clients  before  him." 

"  Mathieson — he  is  an  old  Indian  officer,  isn't  he,  if  it 
is  the  man  I  mean?  He  was  in  command  at  Benares 
twenty  years  ago.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  then,  about 
my  height  and  build." 

"Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  that  is  the  man — John  Le 
Marchand  Mathieson." 

"  That  is  him.  He  was  very  popular  with  the  troops. 
He  used  to  spend  a  good  deal  of  money  in  improving  their 
rations  and  making  them  comfortable.  Had  a  first-rate 
stable,  and  they  used  to  say  he  was  a  rich  man.  Anyhow, 
he  spent  a  good  deal  more  than  his  pay." 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  second  son,  but  his  elder  brother  died, 
and  he  came  into  the  property;  but  instead  of  coming 
home  to  enjoy  it  he  stopped  out  in  India  for  years  after 
he  came  into  it." 

"  He  had  a  daughter,  quite  a  little  girl,  in  those  days; 
her  mother  died  out  there.  I  suppose  she  inherits  his 
property?  " 

"Well,  no;  she  married  some  time  back;  she  and  her 
husband  are  both  dead,  and  their  son,  a  boy,  six  or  seven 
years  old,  lives  with  the  old  man." 

"How  much  does  he  leave?" 

"  Something  over  a  hundred  thousand  pounds.  At 
least  I  know  that  that  is  about  the  value  of  the  estates, 
for  we  have  always  acted  as  his  agents,  collected  the 
rents,  and  so  on." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  copy  of  his  will,"  Wilkinson  said, 
after  sitting  for  some  time  silent.  "  I  don't  want  all  the 
legal  jargon,  but  just  the  list  of  the  legacies."  " 

"  I  can  easily  jot  those  down  for  you.  The  property 
goes  to  the  grandson,  and  if  he  dies  before  coming  of  age, 
to  a  niece,  Hilda  Covington,  who  is  his  ward  and  lives  with 


A   GAMBLING  DEN  57 

him.  He  leaves  her  beside  only  five  hundred  pounds,  be- 
cause she  is  herself  an  heiress.  There  are  a  score  of  small 
legacies,  to  old  servants,  soldiers,  widows,  and  people  of 
that  sort." 

"  "Well,  you  may  as  well  give  me  the  list  entire." 

Dawkins  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  he  said:  "  the  will  was  signed  yester- 
day, but  I  have  the  note  of  instructions  still  by  me,  and 
will  bring  round  the  list  to-morrow  evening;  though, 
upon  my  word,  I  don't  see  what  interest  it  can  possibly 
have  for  you." 

"  I  don't  know  myself,"  the  other  said  shortly,  "  but 
there  is  never  any  saying/' 

After  talking  for  a  few  minutes  on  other  subjects  he 
said,  "  The  room  is  open  downstairs  now,  Dawkins,  and 
as  we  have  finished  the  bottle  I  will  not  keep  you  any 
longer.  In  fact,  the  name  of  that  old  General  has  called 
up  some  queer  memories  of  old  times,  and  I  should  like  to 
think  them  over." 

When  the  clerk  had  left,  Wilkinson  sat  for  a  long  time 
in  thought. 

"  It  is  a  great  idea,"  he  murmured  to  himself  at  last; 
"it  will  want  a  tremendous  lot  of  planning  to  arrange  it 
all,  and  of  course  it  is  tremendously  risky.  Still,  it  can  be 
done,  and  the  stake  is  worth  trying  for,  even  if  it  would 
be  seven  years'  transportation  if  anything  went  wrong. 
In  the  first  place  I  have  to  get  some  proofs  of  my  identity. 
I  own  that  I  have  neglected  my  family  scandalously,"  and 
his  face,  which  had  been  stern  and  hard,  softened  into  a 
smile.  "  Then,  of  course,  I  must  establish  myself  in. 
chambers  in  the  West  End,  and  as  I  have  three  or  four 
thousand  pounds  in  hand  I  can  carry  on  for  two  or  three 
years,  if  necessary.  At  the  worst  the  General  is  likely  to 
add  me  to  his  list  of  legatees,  but  of  course  that  would 
scarcely  be  worth  pla3ring  for  alone.  The  will  is  the 
thing.  I  don't  see  my  way  to  that,  but  it  is  hard  if  it  can't 
be  managed  somehow.  The  child  is,  of  course,  an  ob- 
stacle, but  that  can  certainly  be  got  over,  and  as  I  don't 
suppose  the  old  man  is  going  to  die  at  present  I  have  tin)'* 


58  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

to  make  m/  plans.  When  I  see  how  matters  go  I  can  put 
my  hand  on  a  man  who  could  be  relied  on  to  help  me  carry 
out  anything  I  might  put  in  his  way.  Well,  I  always 
thought  that  I  should  hit  on  something  good  through 
these  young  scamps  who  come  here,  but  this  is  a  bigger 
thing  than  I  ever  dreamed  of.  It  will  certainly  be  a  diffi- 
cult game  to  play,  but,  knocking  about  all  over  the  world 
as  I  have  been  for  fifteen  years  before  I  came  back  and 
set  up  this  show,  I  think  that  I  have  learned  enough  to 
pass  muster  anywhere/'' 

Somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  the  habitues  of  the  room 
below  it  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  the  proprietor 
made  his  appearance  there,  and  even  when  he  did  so  he 
took  little  interest  in  what  was  going  on,  but  moved  rest- 
lessly from  one  room  to  another,  smoking  cigar  after  cigar 
without  intermission,  and  acknowledging  but  briefly  the 
greetings  of  those  who  were  the  most  regular  frequenters 
of  his  establishment. 

Two  days  later  the  following  advertisement  appeared, 
not  only  in  the  London  papers,  but  in  a  large  number  of 
country  journals: 

"John  Simcoe:  Any  relatives  of  John  Simcoe,  who  left 
England  about  the  year  1830  or  1831,  and  is  supposed  to 
have  been  lost  at  sea  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  in  the  ship 
Nepavl,  in  December,  1832,  are  requested  to  communi- 
cate with  J.  W.  Thompson  &  Co.,  Newspaper  Agents, 
Fleet  Street,  when  they  will  hear  of  something  to  their 
advantage." 

Only  one  reply  was  received.  It  was  dated  "Myrtle 
Cottage,  Stowmarket,"  and  was  as  follows: 

"  Sie:  A  friend  has  shown  me  the  advertisement  in  the 
Ipswich  paper,  which  must,  I  think,  refer  to  my  nephew, 
who  left  here  twenty  years  ago.  I  received  a  letter  from 
him  dated  December  2,  1832,  from  Calcutta,  saying  that 
he  was  about  to  sail  for  China  in  the  Nepaul.  I  never 
heard  from  him  again,  but  the  Eector  here  kindly  made 


A   GAMBLING  DEN  59 

gome  inquiries  for  me  some  months  aftdwarus,  and 
learned  that  the  vessel  had  never  been  heard  of  after  sail- 
ing, but  was  believed  to  have  foundered  with  all  hands  in 
a  great  gale  that  took  place  a  few  days  after  she  sailed. 
So  far  as  I  know  I  am  his  only  relative.  Awaiting  a  fur- 
ther communication  from  you, 
"  I  remain, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"Mahtha  Simcoe." 

Great  was  the  excitement  caused  by  the  advertisement 
at  Myrtle  Cottage.  Miss  Simcoe,  who  with  a  tiny  servant 
was  the  sole  inmate  of  the  cottage,  had  called  together 
all  her  female  acquaintances,  and  consulted  them  as  to 
what  the  advertisement  could  mean,  and  as  to  the  way  in 
which  she  should  answer  it. 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  safe  to  reply  at  all?  "  she  in- 
quired anxiously.  "  You  see,  my  nephew  John  was  a  very 
wild  young  fellow.  I  do  not  mean  as  to  his  conduct  here; 
no  one  could  say  anything  against  that.  He  was  a  clerk 
in  the  bank,  you  know,  and,  I  believe,  was  very  well 
thought  of;  but  when  his  father  died,  and  he  came  into 
two  thousand  pounds,  it  seemed  to  turn  his  head.  I  know 
that  he  never  liked  the  bank;  he  had  always  wanted  to  be 
either  a  soldier  or  a  sailor,  and  directly  he  got  the  money 
he  gave  up  his  situation  at  the  bank,  and  nothing  would 
do  but  that  he  must  travel.  Everyone  told  him  that  it 
was  madness;  his  Aunt  Maria — poor  soul,  you  all  knew 
her — and  I  cried  over  it,  but  nothing  would  move  him. 
A  fine-looking  fellow  he  was,  as  some  of  you  will  remem- 
ber, standing  six  feet  high,  and,  as  everyone  said,  looking 
more  like  a  soldier  officer  than  a  clerk  at  a  bank. 

"  We  asked  him  what  he  would  do  when  his  money  was 
gone,  but  he  laughed  it  off,  ^nd  said  that  there  were 
plenty  of  things  for  a  man  to  do  with  a  pair  of  strong 
arms.  He  said  that  he  might  enter  the  service  of  some 
Indian  prince,  or  marry  the  daughter  of  a  black  king,  or 
discover  a  diamond  mine,  and  all  sorts  of  nonsense  of  that 
sort.     He  bought  such  an  outfit  as  you  never  did  see — 


6G  TBE  LOST  HEIR. 

guns  and  pistols  and  all  sorts  of  things;  and  as  for  clothes, 
why,  a  prince  could  not  have  wanted  more.  Shirts  hy  the 
dozen,  my  dear;  and  I  should  say  eight  or  ten  suits  of 
white  clothes,  which  I  told  him  would  make  him  look  like 
a  cricketer  or  a  haker.  Why,  it  took  three  big  trunks  to 
hold  all  his  things.  But  I  will  say  for  him  that  he  wrote 
regular,  either  to  me  or  to  my  sister  Maria.  Last  time 
he  wrote  he  said  that  he  had  been  attacked  by  a  tiger,  but 
had  got  well  again  and  was  going  to  China,  though  what 
he  wanted  to  go  there  for  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  He 
could  not  want  to  buy  teacups  and  saucers;  they  would 
only  get  broken  sending  home.  Well,  his  death  was  a 
great  blow  1  o  us." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  should  answer  the  advertise- 
ment, Miss  Simeoe,"  one  of  her  friends  said.  "  There  is 
no  saying  what  it  might  mean.  Perhaps  he  got  into  debt 
in  India,  and  the  people  think  that  they  might  get  paid 
if  they  can  find  out  his  relations  here." 

The  idea  came  like  a  douche  of  cold  water  upon  the 
little  gathering. 

"  But  the  advertisement  says,  '  will  hear  of  something 
to  their  advantage/  Mrs.  Maberley,"  Miss  Simeoe  urged 
timidly. 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing,  my  dear.  That  may  be  only  a 
lawyer's  trick;  they  are  capable  of  anything,  I  have 
heard." 

"  But  they  could  not  make  Miss  Simeoe  pay,"  another 
urged;  "  it  seems  to  me  much  more  likely  that  her  nephew 
may  have  left  some  of  his  money  in  the  hands  of  a  banker 
at  Calcutta,  and  now  that  it  has  been  so  many  years  un- 
claimed they  are  making  inquiries  to  see  who  is  his  heir. 
That  seems  much  more  likely." 

A  murmur  of  assent  ran  round  the  circle,  and  after 
much  discussion  the  answer  was  drafted,  and  Miss  Simeoe, 
in  a  fever  of  anxtbty,  awaited  the  reply. 

Two  days  later  a  tall,  well-dressed  man  knocked  at  the 
door  of  Myrtle  Cottage.  It  was  a  loud,  authoritative 
knock,  such  as  none  of  Miss  Simcoe's  usual  visitors  gave. 

"  It  must  be  about  the  advertisement,"  she  exclaimed. 


A   GAMBLING  DEN  dl 

The  little  servant  had  been  enjoined  to  wear  nei  Sun- 
day clothes  in  case  a  visitor  should  come,  and  after  a 
hasty  glance  to  see  if  she  was  tidy,  Miss  Simcoe  sat  down 
in  her  little  parlor,  and  tried  to  assume  an  appearance  of 
calmness.  The  front  door  opened,  and  a  man's  voice  in- 
quired, "Is  Miss  Simcoe  in?"  Then  the  parlor  door 
opened  and  the  visitor  entered,  pushing  past  the  girl,  who 
had  been  instructed  how  to  announce  him  in  proper  form, 
and  exclaiming,  "  My  dear  Aunt  Martha,"  fairly  lifted  the 
astonished  old  lady  from  her  seat  and  kissed  her. 

"  Dear  me!  Dear  me!  "  she  gasped,  as  he  put  her  on 
her  feet  again,  "  can  it  be  that  you  are  my  nephew 
John  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  me,  aunt?  Twenty  years  of 
knocking  about  have  changed  me  sadly,  I  am  afraid,  but 
surely  you  must  remember  me." 

"Ye— es,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "yes,  I  think  that  I 
remember  you.  But,  you  see,  we  all  thought  that  you 
were  dead;  and  I  have  only  got  that  likeness  of  you  that 
was  cut  out  in  black  paper  by  a  man  who  came  round  when 
you  were  only  eighteen,  and  somehow  I  have  always 
thought  of  you  as  like  that." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  he  laughed.  "  Well,  aunt,  I  have 
changed  since  then,  there  is  no  doubt.  So  you  see  I  was 
not  drowned,  after  all.  I  was  picked  up  by  a  passing  ship, 
clinging  to  a  spar,  but  I  lost  all  my  money  in  the  wreck  of 
the  Nepaul.  I  shipped  before  the  mast.  We  traded 
among  the  islands  for  some  months,  then  I  had  a  row  with 
the  captain  and  ran  away,  and  threw  in  my  lot  with  the 
natives,  and  I  have  been  knocking  about  in  the  East  ever 
since,  and  have  come  back  with  enough  to  live  on  com- 
fortably, and  to  help  you,  if  you  need  it." 

"  Poor  Maria  died  four  years  ago,"  she  said  tearfully. 
u  It  would  have  been  a  happiness  to  her  indeed,  poor 
creature,  if  you  had  come  back  before." 

"  I  am  sorry  indeed  to  hear  that,"  he  replied.  "  Then 
you  are  living  here  all  alone,  aunt?  " 

"  Yes,  except  for  my  little  maid.  You  see,  John,  Maria 
and  I  laid  out  the  money  our  father  ]°f+  us  in  life  annul- 


62  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

ties,  and  as  long  as  we  lived  together  we  did  very  com- 
fortably. Since  then,  of  course,  I  have  had  to  draw  in  a 
little,  but  I  manage  very  nicely." 

"  Well,  well,  aunt,  there  will  be  no  occasion  for  you  to 
stint  yourself  any  more.  As  I  said,  I  have  come  home 
with  my  purse  warmly  lined,  and  I  shall  make  you  an 
allowance  of  fifty  pounds  a  year.  You  were  always  very 
kind  to  me  as  a  boy,  and  I  can  very  well  afford  it,  and  I 
dare  say  it  will  make  all  the  difference  to  you." 

"My  dear  John,  I  could  not  think  of  taking  such  a 
sum  from  you." 

"Pooh,  pooh,  aunt!  What  is  the  use  of  money  if  one 
cannot  use  it  to  make  one's  friends  comfortable?  So  that 
is  settled,  and  I  won't  have  anything  more  said  about  it." 

The  old  lady  wiped  her  eyes.  "  It  is  good  of  you,  John, 
and  it  will  indeed  make  all  the  difference  to  me.  It  will 
almost  double  my  income,  and  I  shan't  have  to  look  at 
every  halfpenny  before  I  spend  it." 

"  That  is  all  right,  aunt;  now  let  us  sit  down  comfort- 
ably to  chat  about  old  times.  You  don't  mind  my  smok- 
ing, I  hope?" 

Miss  Simcoe,  for  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life,  told 
a  lie.  "Not  at  all,  John;  not  at  all.-  Now,  how  was  it 
that  you  did  not  come  down  yourself  instead  of  putting 
in  an  advertisement,  which  I  should  never  have  seen  if  my 
friend  Mrs.  Maberley  had  not  happened  to  notice  it  in  the 
paper  which  she  takes  in  regularly,  and  brought  it  in  to 
show  me?" 

"Well,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  come  down,  aunt. 
Twenty  years  make  great  changes,  and  it  would  have  been 
horrible  to  have  come  down  here  and  found  that  you  had 
all  gone,  and  that  I  was  friendless  in  the  place  where  I 
had  been  brought  up  as  a  boy.  I  thought  that,  by  my  put- 
ting it  into  a  local  paper,  someone  who  had  known  me 
would  be  sure  to  see  it.  Now  let  me  hear  about  all  the 
people  that  I  knew." 

John  Simcoe  stayed  for  three  days  quietly  at  the  cot- 
tage. The  news  of  his  return  spread  rapidfy,  and  soon 
many  of  the  friends  that  had  known  him  came  to  welcome 


A   GAMBLING  DEN.  63 

him.  His  aunt  had  told  her  own  circle  of  her  nephew's 
wealth  and  liberality,  and  through  them  the  news  that 
John  Simcoe  had  returned  home  a  wealthy  man  was  im- 
parted to  all  their  acquaintances.  Some  of  his  old  friends 
declared  that  they  should  have  known  him  anywhere; 
others  said  frankly  that  now  they  knew  who  he  was  they 
saw  the  likeness,  but  that  if  they  had  met  him  anywhere 
else  they  did  not  think  they  should  have  recognized  him. 

John  Simcoe's  memory  had  been  greatly  refreshed  by 
his  aunt's  incessant  talk  about  his  early  days  and  doings, 
and  as  his  visitors  were  more  anxious  to  hear  of  his  ad- 
ventures abroad  than  to  talk  of  the  days  long  past,  he  had 
no  difficulty  whatever  in  satisfying  all  as  to  his  identity, 
even  had  not  the  question  been  settled  by  his  liberality  to 
his  aunt,  from  whom  no  return  whatever  could  possibly  be 
expected.  When  he  left  he  handed  her  fifty  pounds  in 
gold. 

"  I  may  as  well  give  you  a  year's  money  at  once,"  he 
said;  "lama  careless  man,  and  might  forget  to  send  it 
quarterly." 

"Where  can  I  write  to  you,  John?"  she  asked. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  an  address  at  present,"  he  said;  "  I 
have  only  been  stopping  at  a  hotel  until  I  could  find 
chambers  to  suit  me.  Directly  I  do  so  I  will  drop  you  a 
line.  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  of  you,  and  will  run 
down  occasionally  to  see  you  and  have  a  chat  again  with 
some  of  my  old  friends." 

The  return  of  John  Simcoe  served  Stowmarket  as  a 
subject  for  conversation  for  some  time.  He  had  spent 
his  money  generously  while  there,  and  had  given  a  dinner 
at  the  principal  hotel  to  a  score  of  those  with  whom  he 
had  been  most  intimate  when  a  boy.  Champagne  had 
flowed  in  unstinted  abundance,  and  it  was  generally  voted 
that  he  was  a  capital  fellow,  and  well  deserved  the  good 
fortune  that  had  attended  him.  In  the  quiet  Suffolk 
town  the  tales  of  the  adventures  that  he  had  gone  through 
created  quite  a  sensation,  and  when  repeated  by  their 
fathers  set  half  the  boys  of  the  place  wild  with  a  desire  to 
imitate  his  example,  and  to  embark  in  a  life  which  was  at 


64  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

once  delightful,  and  ended  in  acquiring  untold  wealtn. 
On  leaving  he  pressed  several  of  them,  especially  one  who 
had  been  a  fellow-clerk  with  him  at  the  bank,  and  was 
now  its  manager,  to  pay  him  a  visit  whenever  they  came 
to  town. 

"  I  expect  to  be  in  diggings  of  my  own  in  a  week  or 
two,"  he  said,  "  and  shall  make  a  point  of  having  a  spare 
bed,  to  put  up  a  friend  at  any  time." 


)N'T    REMEMBER    ME,    GENERAL?" — >«£*   Cfl. 


The  Lost  Heir 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

JOHN    SIMCOE. 

General  Mathieson  was  on  the  point  of  going  out  for 
a  drive  with  his  niece,  who  was  buttoning  her  glove,  when 
a  servant  entered  the  drawing  room  and  said  that  a  gentle- 
man wished  to  speak  to  him. 

"Who  is  he?  Did  he  give  you  his  name  or  say  what 
,was  his  business?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  have  not  seen  him  before.  He  merely 
asked  me  to  give  you  his  message." 

"  I  suppose  I  had  better  see  him,  Hilda." 

"  Well,  uncle,  I  will  get  out  of  the  way  and  go  down- 
Btairs  when  he  has  come  in.  Don't  let  him  keep  you,  for 
you  know  that  when  I  have  put  you  down  at  your  club  I 
have  an  engagement  to  take  Lina  Crossley  to  do  some 
chopping  first,  and  then  for  a  drive  in  the  park." 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  he  will  be  five  minutes,  whoever 
he  is." 

Hilda  slipped  away  just  in  time  to  avoid  the  visitor. 
As  the  manservant  opened  the  door  the  General  looked 
with  some  interest  at  the  stranger,  for  such  it  seemed  to 
him  his  visitor  was.  He  was  a  tall  man,  well  dressed,  and 
yet  without  the  precision  that  would  mark  him  as  being  a 
member  of  a  good  club  or  an  habitue  of  the  Eow. 

"You  don't  remember  me,  General?"  he  said,  with  a 
slight  smile. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  do,"  the  General  replied.  "  Your 
face  does  not  seem  unfamiliar  to  me,  though  I  cannot  at 
the  present  moment  place  it." 

"It  is  rather  an  uncommon  name,"  the  visitor  said; 
"  but  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  do  not  remember  it  or 
me,  for  it  is  some  twenty  years  since  we  met.  My  name  is 
Simcoe." 

"Twenty  years!"   the   General   repeated.     "Then  it 

65 


66  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

must  have  been  in  India,  for  twenty  years  ago  I  was  in 
command  of  the  Benares  district.  Simcoe!  "  he  broke 
off  excitedly.  "  Of  course  I  knew  a  gentleman  of  that 
name  who  did  me  an  inestimable  service;  in  fact,  he  saved 
my  life." 

'"'  I  don't  know  that  it  was  as  much  as  that,  but  at  least 
I  saved  you  from  being  mauled  by  a  tiger." 

"  Bless  me! "  the  General  exclaimed,  taking  a  step  for- 
ward, "  and  you  are  the  man.  I  recognize  you  now,  and 
had  I  not  believed  that  you  had  been  lost  at  sea  within  a 
month  after  you  had  saved  my  life  I  should  have  known 
you  at  once,  though,  of  course,  twenty  years  have  changed 
you  a  good  deal.  My  dear  sir,  I  am  happy  indeed  to  know 
that  the  report  was  a  false  one,  and  to  meet  you  again." 
And  he  shook  hands  with  his  visitor  with  the  greatest 
warmth. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  did  not  recognise  me," 
the  latter  said;  "  I  was  but  twenty-five  then,  and  have 
been  knocking  about  the  world  ever  since,  and  have  gone 
through  some  very  rough  times  and  done  some  very  hard 
work.  Of  course  you  saw  my  name  among  the  list  of  the 
passengers  on  board  the  Nepaul,  which  went  down  with, 
as  was  supposed,  all  hands  in  that  tremendous  storm  in  the 
Bay  of  Bengal.  Happily,  I  escaped.  I  was  washed  over- 
board just  as  the  wreck  of  the  mainmast  had  been  cut 
away.  A  wave  carried  me  close  to  it;  I  climbed  upon  it  and 
lashed  myself  to  leeward  of  the  top,  which  sheltered  me  a 
good  deal.  Five  days  later  I  was  picked  up  insensible  and 
was  carried  to  Singapore.  I  was  in  hospital  there  for 
some  weeks.  When  I  quite  recovered,  being  penniless, 
without  references  or  friends,  I  shipped  on  board  a  vessel 
that  was  going  on  a  trading  voyage  among  the  islands. 
I  had  come  out  to  see  the  world,  and  thought  that  I  might 
as  well  see  it  that  way  as  another.  It  would  take  a  long 
time  to  relate  my  after-adventures;  suffice  it  that  at  last, 
after  numerous  wanderings,  I  became  chief  adviser  of  a 
powerful  chief  in  Burmah,  and  finally  have  returned 
home,  not  exactly  a  rich  man,  but  with  enough  to  live 
upon  in  more  than  comfort  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 


JOHN  SIMCOE.  67 

••  How  long  have  you  been  in  London?  " 

"  I  have  been  here  but  a  fortnight;  I  ran  down  home  to 
6ee  if  I  had  relatives  living,  but  found  that  an  old  lady  was 
the  sole  survivor  of  my  family.  I  need  scarcely  say  that 
my  first  business  on  reaching  London  was  to  rig  myself 
out  in  a  presentable  sort  of  way,  and  I  may  say  that  at 
present  I  feel  very  uncomfortable  in  these  garments  after 
being  twenty  years  without  putting  on  a  black  coat.  I 
happened  the  other  day  to  see  your  name  among  those 
who  attended  the  levee,  and  I  said  to  myself  at  jmce,  '  I 
will  call  upon  the  General  and  see  if  he  has  any*  remem- 
brances of  me.'  " 

At  this  moment  a  servant  entered  the  room  with  a  little 
note. 

*  My  Dear  Uncle:  It  is  very  naughty  of  you  to  be  so 
long.  I  am  taking  the  carriage,  and  have  told  them  to 
put  the  other  horse  into  the  brougham  and  bring  it  round 
for  you  at  once." 

For  more  than  an  hour  the  two  men  sat  talking  to- 
gether, and  Simcoe,  on  leaving,  accepted  a  cordial  invita- 
tion from  the  General  to  dinner  on  the  following  day. 

"  Well,  uncle,  who  was  it  ?  "  Hilda  asked,  when  they  met 
in  the  drawing  room  a  few  minutes  before  the  dinner 
hour,  *  You  said  you  would  not  be  five  minutes,  and  I 
waited  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  and  then  lost  patience.  I 
asked  when  I  came  in  how  long  he  had  stayed,  and  heard 
that  he  did  not  leave  until  five  o'clock." 

"  He  was  a  man  who  had  saved  my  life  in  India,  child." 

"Dear  me!  And  have  you  never  heard  of  him  since, 
uncle?" 

"  No,  dear.  I  did  my  best  to  find  out  his  family,  but 
had  no  idea  of  ever  seeing  the  man  himself,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  I  believed  that  he  died  twenty  years  ago.  He 
had  sailed  in  a  vessel  that  was  reported  as  lost  with  all 
hands,  so  you  may  well  imagine  my  surnrise  when  he  told 
me  who  he  was." 


68  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"  Did  you  recognize  him  at  once,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Not  at  first.  Twenty  years  is  a  long  time;  and  he 
was  only  about  five-and-twenty  when  I  knew  him,  and  of 
course  he  has  changed  greatly.  However,  even  before  he 
told  me  who  he  was  I  was  able  to  recall  his  face.  He  was 
a  tall,  active  young  fellow  then,  and  I  could  certainly 
trace  the  likeness." 

"  I  suppose  he  was  in  the  army,  uncle?  " 

"  No;  he  was  a  young  Englishman  who  was  making  a 
tour  through  India.  I  was  in  command  at  Benares  at  the 
time,  and  he  brought  me  letters  of  introduction  from  a 
man  who  had  come  out  in  the  same  ship  with  him,  and 
also  from  a  friend  of  mine  in  Calcutta.  A  few  days  after 
he  arrived  I  was  on  the  point  of  going  up  with  a  party  to 
do  some  tiger-shooting  in  the  Terai,  and  I  invited  him  to 
come  with  us.  He  was  a  pleasant  fellow  and  soon  made 
himself  popular.  He  never  said  much  about  himself,  but 
as  far  as  I  understood  him  he  was  not  a  rich  'man,  but  he 
was  spending  his  money  in  seeing  the  world,  with  a  sort  of 
happy  confidence  that  something  would  turn  up  when  his 
money  was  gone. 

"  We  were  out  a  week  and  had  fair  sport.  As  you  have 
often  heard  me  say,  I  was  passionately  fond  of  big-game 
shooting,  and  I  had  had  many  narrow  escapes  in  the 
course  of  my  life,  but  I  never  had  so  narrow  a  one  as  hap- 
pened to  me  on  that  occasion.  We  had  winded  a  tiger 
and  had  lost  him.  We  had  spent  a  couple  of  hours  in 
beating  the  jungle,  but  without  success,  and  had  agreed 
that  the  brute  could  not  have  been  hit  as  hard  as  we  had 
believed,  but  must  have  made  off  altogether.  We  were 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  edge  of  the  jungle,  when  there 
was  a  sudden  roar,  and  before  I  could  use  my  rifle  the 
tiger  sprang.  I  was  not  in  a  howdah,  but  on  a  pad;  and 
the  tiger  struck  one  of  its  forepaws  on  my  knee.  With 
the  other  he  clung  for  a  moment  to  the  pad,  and  then  we 
went  down  together.  The  brute  seized  me  by  the  shoul- 
der and  sprang  into  the  jungle  again,  carried  me  a  dozen 
yards  or  so,  and  then  lay  down,  still  holding  me  by  the 
shoulder. 


JOHN  SIMCOE.  69 

"  I  was  perfectly  sensible,  but  felt  somewhat  dazed  and 
stupid;  I  found  myself  vaguely  thinking  that  he  must, 
after  all,  have  been  very  badly  hit,  and,  instead  of  making 
off,  had  hid  up  within  a  short  distance  of  the  spot  where 
we  saw  him.  I  was  unable  to  move  hand  or  foot,  for  he 
was  lying  on  me,  and  his  weight  was  pressing  the  life  out 
of  me.  I  know  that  I  vaguely  hoped  I  should  die  before 
he  took  a  bite  at  my  shoulder.  I  suppose  that  the  whole 
thing  did  not  last  a  minute,  though  to  me  it  seemed  an  in- 
terminable time.  Suddenly  there  was  a  rustling  in  the 
bush.  With  a  deep  growl  the  tiger  loosed  his  hold  of  my 
shoulder,  and,  rising  to  his  feet,  faced  half  round.  What 
happened  after  that  I  only  know  from  hearsay. 

"  Simcoe,  it  seems,  was  riding  in  the  howdah  on  an  ele- 
phant behind  mime.  As  the  tiger  sprang  at  my  elephant 
he  fired  and  hit  the  beast  on  the  shoulder.  It  was  that,  no 
doubt,  that  caused  its  hold  to  relax,  and  brought  us  to  the 
ground  together.  As  the  tiger  sprang  with  me  into  the 
jungle  Simcoe  leaped  down  from  the  howdah  and  fol- 
owed.  He  had  only  his  empty  rifle  and  a  large  hunting- 
knife.  It  was  no  easy  work  pushing  his  way  through  the 
jungle,  but  in  a  minute  he  came  upon  us.  Clubbing  his 
gun,  he  brought  it  down  on  the  left  side  of  the  tiger's  head 
before  the  brute,  who  was  hampered  by  his  broken  shoul- 
der, and  weak  from  his  previous  wound,  could  spring. 
Had  it  not  been  that  it  was  the  right  shoulder  that  was 
broken,  the  blow,  heavy  as  it  was,  would  have  had  little 
effect  upon  the  brute;  as  it  was,  having  no  support  on  that 
side,  it  reeled  half  over  and  then,  with  a  snarling  growl, 
sprang  upon  its  assailant.  Simcoe  partly  leaped  aside, 
and  striking  again  with  the  barrel  of  his  gun, — the  butt 
had  splintered  with  the  first  blow, — so  far  turned  it  aside 
that  instead  of  receiving  the  blow  direct,  which  would  cer- 
tainly have  broken  in  his  skull,  it  fell  in  a  slanting  direc- 
tion on  his  left  shoulder. 

"  The  force  was  sufficient  to  knock  him  down,  but,  as  he 
fell,  he  drew  his  knife.  The  tiger  had  leaped  partly  be- 
yond him,  so  that  he  lay  under  its  stomach,  and  it  could 
not  for  the  moment  use  either  its  teeth  ™*  claws.     The 


70  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

pressure  was  terrible,  but  with  his  last  remaining  strength 
he  drove  the  knife  to  the  full  length  of  its  blade  twice 
into  the  tiger's  body.  The  animal  rolled  over  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  there  was  still  life  in  it,  and  it  again  sprang  to 
its  feet,  when  a  couple  of  balls  struck  it  in  the  head,  and 
it  fell  dead.  Three  officers  had  slipped  down  from  their 
howdahs  when  they  saw  Simcoe  rushing  into  the  jungle, 
and  coming  up  just  in  time,  they  fired,  and  so  finished  the 
conflict. 

"There  was  not  much  to  choose  between  Simcoe  and 
myself,  though  I  had  certainly  got  the  worst  of  it.  The 
flesh  of  his  arm  had  been  pretty  well  stripped  off  from 
the  shoulder  to  the  elbow;  my  shoulder  had  been  broken, 
and  the  flesh  torn  by  the  brute's  teeth,  but  as  it  had  not 
shifted  its  hold  from  the  time  it  first  grasped  me  till  it  let 
go  to  face  Simcoe,  it  was  not  so  bad  as  it  might  have  been. 
But  the  wound  on  the  leg  was  more  serious;  its  claws  had 
struck  just  above  the  knee-cap  and  had  completely  torn  it 
off.  We  were  both  insensible  when  we  were  lifted  up  and 
carried  down  to  the  camp.  In  a  fortnight  Simcoe  was 
about;  but  it  was  some  months  before  I  could  walk  again, 
and,  as  you  know,  my  right  leg  is  still  stiff.  I  had  a  very 
narrow  escape  of  my  life;  fever  set  in.  and  when  Simcoe 
went  down  country,  a  month  after  the  affair,  I  was  still 
lying  between  life  and  death,  and  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  thanking  him  for  the  manner  in  which,  prac- 
tically unarmed,  he  went  in  to  face  a  wounded  tiger  in 
order  to  save  my  life.  You  may  imagine,  then,  my  regret 
when  a  month  later  we  got  the  news  that  the  Nepaul,  in 
which  he  had  sailed,  had  been  lost  with  all  hands." 

"  It  was  a  gallant  action  indeed,  uncle.  You  told  me 
something  about  it  soon  after  I  came  here,  when  I  hap- 
pened to  ask  you  how  it  was  that  you  walked  so  stiffly,  but 
you  did  not  tell  it  so  fully.     And  what  is  he  going  to  do 


now 


jj  » 


"  He  is  going  to  settle  in  London.  He  has  been,  as  he 
says,  knocking  about  in  the  East  ever  since,  being  en- 
gaged in  all  sorts  of  adventures;  he  has  been  for  some 
time  in  the  service  of  a  native  chief  some  way  up  near  the 


JOHN  SIM COm.  VI 

borders  of  Burmah,  Siam,  and  China,  and  somehow  got 
possession  of  a  large  number  of  rubies  and  other  precious 
stones,  which  he  has  turned  into  money,  and  now  intends 
to  take  chambers  and  settle  down  to  a  quiet  life,  join  a 
club,  and  so  on.  Of  course  I  promised  to  do  all  in  my 
power  to  further  his  object,  and  to  introduce  him  into  as 
much  society  as  he  cared  for." 

"What  is' he  like,  uncle?" 

"  He  is  about  my  height,  and  I  suppose  about  five-and- 
forty — though  he  looks  rather  older.  No  wonder,  after 
such  a  life  as  he  has  led.  He  carries  himself  well,  and  he 
is  altogether  much  more  presentable  than  you  would  ex- 
pect under  the  circumstances.  Indeed,  had  I  not  known 
that  he  had  never  served,  I  should  unhesitatingly  have 
put  him  down  as  having  been  in  the  army.  There  is 
something  about  the  way  he  carries  his  shoulders  that  you 
seldom  see  except  among  men  who  have  been  drilled.  He 
is  coming  here  to  dine  to-morrow,  so  you  will  see  him." 

"  Thaf  relieves  me  of  anxiety,  uncle;  for  you  know  you 
had  a  letter  this  morning  from  Colonel  Fitzhugh,  sa}ring 
that  he  had  been  unexpectedly  called  out  of  town,  and 
you  said  that  you  would  ask  somebody  at  the  club  to  fill 
his  place,  but  you  know  you  very  often  forget  things  that 
you  ought  to  remember." 

"  I  certainly  had  forgotten  that  when  I  asked  him  to 
come,  and  as  I  came  home  I  blamed  myself  for  not  having 
asked  someone  else,  so  as  to  make  up  an  even  number." 

A  month  later  Mr.  Simcoe  had  become  an  intimate  of 
General  Mathieson's  house.  It  had  always  been  a  matter 
of  deep  regret  to  the  General  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
thank  the  man  who  at  terrible  risk  to  his  life  had  saved 
him  from  death,  and  that  feeling  was  heightened  when 
the  news  came  that  his  preserver  had  been  drowned,  and 
that  the  opportunity  of  doing  so  was  forever  lost.  He  now 
spared  no  pains  to  further  his  wishes.  He  constantly  in- 
vited him  to  lunch  or  dinner  at  his  club,  introduced  him 
to  all  his  friends  in  terms  of  the  highest  eulogium,  and 
repeated  over  and  over  again  the  story  of  his  heroic 
action.     As  his  own  club  was  a  military  one  he  could  not 


1%  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

propose  him  there,  but  he  had  no  difficulty  in  getting 
friends  to  propose  and  support  him  for  two  other  clubs  of 
good  standing. 

Several  of  the  officers  to  whom  he  introduced  Simcoe 
had  been  at  Benares  at  the  time  he  was  hurt.  These  he 
recognized  at  once,  and  was  able  to  chat  with  them  of 
their  mutual  acquaintances,  and  indeed  surprised  them  by 
his  knowledge  of  matters  at  the  station  that  they  would 
hardly  have  thought  would  be  known  to  one  who  had 
made  but  a  short  stay  there.  One  of  them  said  as  much, 
but  Simcoe  said,  laughing,  "  You  forget  that  I  was  laid  up 
for  a  month.  Everyone  was  very  good  to  me,  and  I  had 
generally  one  or  two  men  sitting  with  me.  and  the  amount 
of  gossip  I  picked  up  about  the  station  was  wonderful. 
Of  course  there  was  nothing  else  to  talk  about;  and  as  I 
have  a  good  memory,  I  think  I  could  tell  you  something 
about  the  private  affairs  of  pretty  nearly  every  civilian 
and  military  man  on  the  station." 

Everyone  agreed  that  Simcoe  was  a  very  pleasant  and 
amusing  companion.  He  was  full  of  anecdotes  of  the 
wild  people  that  he  had  lived  among  and  of  the  adven- 
tures and  escapes  he  had  gone  through.  Although  none 
of  the  Benares  friends  of  the  General  recognized  Simcoe 
when  they  first  met  him,  they  speedily  recalled  his  fea- 
tures. His  instant  recognition  of  them,  his  acquaintance 
with  persons  and  scenes  at  and  around  Benares  was  such 
that  they  never  for  a  moment  doubted  his  identity,  and  as 
their  remembrance  of  the  General's  visitor  returned  they 
even  wondered  that  their  recognition  of  him  had  not  been 
as  instant  as  his  of  them.  As  to  his  means,  not  even  to 
the  General  had  Simcoe  explained  his  exact  position.  He 
had  taken  good  apartments  in  Jermyn  Street,  gave  excel- 
lent little  dinners  there,  kept  undeniably  good  wine  and 
equally  excellent  cigars,  dressed  well,  and  was  regarded  as 
being  a  thoroughly  good  fellow. 

The  General  was  not  a  close  observer.  Had  he  been  so, 
he  would  speedily  have  noticed  that  his  niece,  although 
always  polite  and  courteous'  to  Mr.  Simcoe,  did  not  receive 
him   with    the    warmth    and    pleasure    with    which    she 


JOHN  SIMCOE.  13 

greeted  those  who  were  her  favorites.  On  his  part  the 
visitor  spared  no  pains  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  her; 
he  would  at  once  volunteer  to  execute  any  commission  for 
her  if  she  happened  to  mention  in  his  presence  anything 
that  she  wanted.  One  evening  when  she  was  going  to  a 
ball  he  sent  her  an  expensive  bouquet  of  flowers.  The 
next  day  when  she  saw  him  she  said: 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  those  lovely 
flowers,  and  I  carried  the  bouquet  last  night,  but  please  do 
not  send  any  more.  I  don't  think  that  it  is  quite  nice  to 
accept  presents  from  anyone  except  very  near  relations. 
It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  it,  but  I  would  really 
rather  that  you  did  not  do  it  again.  Uncle  gives  me  carte 
blanche  in  the  way  of  flowers,  but  I  do  not  avail  myself  of 
it  very  largely,  for  the  scent  is  apt  to  make  me  feel  faint, 
and  beyond  the  smallest  spray  I  seldom  carry  any.  I 
made  an  exception  last  night,  for  those  you  sent  me  were 
most  lovely.  You  don't  mind  my  saying  that,  do 
you?" 

"  Not  at  all,  Miss  Covington;  and  I  quite  understand 
what  you  mean.  It  seemed  natural  to  me  to  send  you 
some  flowers.  Out  in  the  Pacific  Islands,  especially  at 
Samoa  and  Tahiti,  and,  indeed,  more  or  less  everywhere, 
women  wear  a  profusion  of  flowers  in  their  hair,  and  no 
present  is  so  acceptable  to  them." 

"  I  fancy  flowers  do  not  cost  so  much  there  as  they  do 
here,  Mr.  Simcoe  ?  " 

"  No,"  the  latter  laughed;  "  for  half  a  dollar  one  can 
get  enough  to  render  a  girl  the  envy  of  all  others." 

"  I  think  you  were  right  to  ask  Mr.  Simcoe  not  to  re- 
peat his  present,  Hilda,"  the  General  said.  "I  particu- 
larly noticed  the  bouquet  that  you  carried  last  night." 

"  Yes,  uncle,  there  was  nothing  equal  to  it  in  the  room; 
it  must  have  cost  three  or  four  guineas." 

"I  don't  think  that  you  quite  like  him;  do  you, 
Hilda?" 

"  I  like  him,  uncle,  because  he  saved  your  life;  but  in 
other  respects  I  do  not  know  that  I  do  like  him  particu- 


?4  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

larly.  He  is  very  pleasant  and  very  amusing,  but  I  don't 
feel  that  I  quite  understand  him." 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  you  don't  understand  him?  " 

"  I  cannot  quite  explain,  uncle.  To  begin  with,  I  don't 
seem  to  get  any  nearer  to  him — I  mean  to  what  he  really 
is.  I  know  more  of  his  adventures  and  his  life  than  I 
did,  but  I  know  no  more  of  him  himself  than  I  did  three 
months  ago  when  I  first  met  him  at  dinner." 

"  At  any  rate  you  know  that  he  is  brave,"  the  General 
said,  somewhat  gravely. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,  of  course;  but  a  man  can  be  brave, 
exceptionally  brave,  and  yet  not  possess  all  other  good 
qualities.  He  did  behave  like  a  hero  in  your  case,  and  I 
need  not  say  that  I  feel  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  the 
service  that  he  rendered  you;  still,  that  is  the  only  side  of 
his  nature  that  I  feel  certain  about." 

"  Pooh!  pooh!  Hilda,"  the  General  said,  with  some  irri- 
tation. "  What  do  you  know  about  nine-tenths  of  the 
men  you  meet?  You  cannot  even  tell  that  they  are 
brave." 

"  No,  uncle;  I  know  only  the  side  they  choose  to  present 
to  me,  which  is  a  pleasant  side,  and  I  do  not  care  to  know 
more.  But  it  is  different  in  this  case.  Mr.  Simcoe  is 
here  nearly  every  day;  he  has  become  one  of  our  inner 
circle;  you  are  naturally  deeply  interested  in  him,  and  I 
am,  therefore,  interested  in  him  also,  and  want  to  know 
more  of  him  than  I  have  got  to  know.  He  is  brave  and 
pleasant;  is  he  also  honest  and  honorable?  Is  he  a  man 
of  thoroughly  good  principles?  We  know  what  he  tells 
us  of  his  life  and  his  adventures,  but  he  only  tells  us  what 
he  chooses." 

The  General  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  may  say  the  same  thing  of  pretty 
nearly  every  unmarried  man  you  meet.  When  a  man 
marries  and  sets  up  a  household  one  does  get  to  know 
something  about  him.  There  are  his  wife's  relations, 
who,  as  a  rule,  speak  with  much  frankness  concerning  a 
man  who  has  married  their  daughter,  sister,  or  cousin. 
But  as  to  bachelors,  as  a  rule  one  has  to  take  them  at  their 


JOHN  SIMCOE.  ±  ?5 

own  valuation.  Of  course,  I  know  no  more  than  you  do 
as  to  whether  Simcoe  is  in  all  respects  an  honorable  gen- 
tleman. It  is  quite  sufficient  that  he  saved  my  life,  almost 
at  the  sacrifice  of  his  own,  and  whatever  the  life  he  may 
have  led  since  is  no  business  of  mine.  He  is  distinctly 
popular  among  those  I  have  introduced  him  to,  and  is  not 
likely  in  any  way  to  discredit  that  introduction." 

That  Hilda  was  not  entirely  satisfied  was  evident  by  the 
letter  she  wrote  when  her  uncle  had,  as  usual,  gone  up 
one  afternoon  to  his  club. 

"  My  Dear  Netta:  I  have  told  you  several  times  about 
the  Mr.  Simcoe  who  saved  uncle's  life  out  in  India,  and 
who  is  so  intimate  at  the  house.  I  can't  say  that  either 
my  acquaintance  with  or  my  liking  for  him  increases. 
He  does  not  stand  the  test  of  the  system,  and  the  more  I 
watch  his  lips  the  less  I  understand  him.  He  talks 
fluently  and  quickly,  and  yet  somehow  I  feel  that  there  is 
a  hesitation  in  his  speech,  and  that  his  lips  are  repeating 
what  they  have  learned,  and  not  speaking  spontaneously. 
You  know  that  we  have  noticed  the  same  thing  among 
those  who  have  learned  to  speak  by  the  system  but  are  not 
yet  perfect  in  it,  so  I  need  not  explain  further  what  I 
mean,  as  you  will  understand  it.  For  example,  I  can  al- 
ways tell  at  a  public'  meeting,  or  when  listening  to  a 
preacher,  whether  he  is  speaking  absolutely  extemporarily 
or  whether  he  has  learned  his  speech  by  heart  beforehand. 

"  I  really  strongly  misdoubt  the  man.  Of  course  I 
know  that  he  saved  my  uncle's  life;  beyond  that  I  know 
nothing  of  him,  and  it  is  this  very  feeling  that  I  do  know 
nothing  that  disquiets  me.  I  can  no  more  see  into  him 
than  I  can  into  a  stone  wall.  I  can  quite  understand  that 
it  is  of  very  great  importance  to  him  to  stand  well  with 
the  General.  He  came  here  a  stranger  with  a  queer  his- 
tory. He  knew  no  one;  he  had  money  and  wanted  to  get 
into  society.  Through  my  uncle  he  has  done  so;  he  has 
been  elected  to  two  clubs,  has  made  a  great  number  of  ac- 
quaintances, goes  to  the  Eow,  the  Koyal  Academy,  the 
theaters,  and  so  on,  and  is,  at  any  rate,  on  nodding  terms 


16  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

•with  a  very  large  number  of  people.  All  this  he  owes  to 
my  ancle,  and  I  fail  to  see  what  else  he  can  wish  for.  It 
"would  be  natural  with  so  many  other  engagements  that  he 
should  not  come  to  us  so  often  as  he  used  to  do,  but  there 
is  no  falling  off  in  that  respect.  He  is  the  tame  cat  of  the 
establishment.  I  dare  say  you  think  me  silly  to  worry 
over  such  a  thing,  but  I  can't  help  wording.  I  hate 
things  I  don't  understand,  and  I  don't  understand  this 
man. 

"  Another  thing  is,  Walter  does  not  like  him.  He 
constantly  brings  the  child  toys,  but  "Walter  does  not  take 
to  him,  refuses  absolutely  to  sit  upon  his  knee,  or  to  be 
petted  by  him  in  any  way.  I  always  think  that  it  is  a  bad 
sign  when  a  child  won't  take  to  a  man.  However.  I  will 
not  bother  you  more  about  it  now;  I  will  keep  him  out  of 
my  letters  as  much  as  I  can.  I  wish  I  could  keep  him 
out  of  my  mind  also.  As  I  tell  myself  over  and  over 
again,  he  is  nothing  to  me,  and  whether  he  possesses  all 
the  virtues  or  none  of  them  is,  or  at  any  rate  should  be,  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  me.  I  can't  help  wishing  that 
you  had  come  over  here  two  months  later,  then  I  should 
have  had  the  benefit  of  your  advice  and  opinion,  for  you 
know,  ISTetta,  how  accustomed  I  was  for  years  to  consider 
you  almost,  if  not  quite,  infallible." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JOHN    SIMCOE'S    ERIEND. 

There. was  a  great  sensation  among  the  frequenters  of 
the  house  in  Elephant  Court  when  they  were  told  that 
Wilkinson  had  sold  the  business,  and  the  new  proprietor, 
would  come  in  at  once.  The  feeling  among  those  who 
were  in  his  debt  was  one  of  absolute  dismay,  for  it  seemed 
to  them  certain  the  amounts  would  be  at  once  called  in. 
To  their  surprise  and  relief  Wilkinson  went  round  among 
the  foreigners,  whose  debts  in  no  case  exceeded  five 
pounds,  and  handed  to  them  their  notes  of  hand. 

"  I  am  going  out  of  the  business,"  he  said,  "  and  shall 
be  leaving  for  abroad  in  a  day  or  so.  I  might,  of  course, 
have  arranged  with  the  new  man  for  him  to  take  over 
these  papers,  but  he  might  not  be  as  easy  as  I  have  been, 
and  I  should  not  like  any  of  you  to  get  into  trouble.  I 
have  never  pressed  anyone  since  I  have  been  here,  still 
less  taken  anyone  into  court,  and  I  should  like  to  leave  on 
friendly  terms  with  all.  So  here  are  your  papers;  tear 
them  up,  and  don't  be  fools  enough  to  borrow  again." 

Towards  his  English  clients,  whose  debts  were  generally 
from  ten  to  twenty  pounds,  he  took  the  same  course,  add- 
•ing  a  little  good  advice  as  to  dropping  billiards  and  play 
altogether  and  making  a  fresh  start. 

"  You  have  had  a  sharp  lesson,"  he  said,  "  and  I  know 
that  you  have  been  on  thorns  for  the  last  year.  I  wanted 
to  show  you  what  folly  it  was  to  place  yourself  in  the. 
power  of  anyone  to  ruin  you,  and  I  fancy  I  have  suc-J 
ceeded  very  well.  There  is  no  harm  in  a  game  of  billiardsl 
now  and  then,  but  if  you  cannot  play  without  betting  you' 
had  better  cut  it  altogether.  As  for  the  tables,  it  is 
6imply  madness.     You  must  lose  in  the  long  run,  and  I 

77 


18  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

am  quite  sure  that  I  have  got  out  of  you  several  times  the 
amount  of  the  I.  0.  U.'s  that  I  hold." 

Never  were  men  more  surprised  and  more  relieved. 
They  could  hardly  believe  that  they  were  once  more  free 
men,  and  until  a  fresh  set  of  players  had  succeeded  them 
the  billiard  rooms  were  frequently  almost  deserted.  To 
Dawkins  Wilkinson  was  somewhat  more  explicit. 

"  You  know/'  he  said,  "  the  interest  I  took  in  that  will 
of  General  Mathieson.  It  was  not  the  will  so  much  as  the 
man  that  I  was  so  interested  in.  It  showed  me  that  he 
was  most  liberally  di^porocl  to  those  who  had  done  him  a 
service.  Now,  it  happens  that  years  ago,  when  he  was  at 
Benares,  1  saved  his  life  from  a  Bger,  and  got  mauled 
myself  in  doing  so.  I  had  not  thought  of  the  matter  for 
many  years,  but  your  mention  of  his  name  recalled  it  to 
me.  I  had  another  name  in  those  days — men  often 
change  their  names  when  they  knock  about  in  queer 
places,  as  I  have  done.  However,  I  called  upon  him,  and 
he  expressed  himself  most  grateful.  I  need  not  say  that 
I  did  not  mention  the  billiard  room  to  him.  He  natu- 
rally supposed  that  I  had  just  arrived  from  abroad,  and 
he  has  offered  to  introduce  me  to  many  of  his  friends;  and 
I  think  that  I  have  a  good  chance  of  being  put  down  in 
his  will  for  a  decent  sum.  I  brought  money  home  with 
me  from  abroad  and  have  made  a  goodish  sum  here,  so 
I  shall  resume  my  proper  name  and  go  West,  and  drop  this 
affair  altogether.  I  am  not  likely  to  come  against  any  of 
the  crew  here,  and,  as  you  see,"  and  he  removed  a  false 
beard  and  whiskers  from  his  face,  "  I  have  shaved,  though 
I  got  this  hair  to  wear  until  I  had  finally  cut  the  court. 
So  you  see  you  have  unintentionally  done  me  a  consider- 
able service,  and  in  return  I  shall  say  nothing  about  that 
fifty  pounds  you  owe  me.  Now,  lad,  try  and  keep  your- 
self straight  in  future.  You  may  not  get  out  of  another 
scrape  as  you  have  out  of  this.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will 
not  mention  what  I  have  told  you  to  anyone  else.  There 
is  no  fear  of  my  being  recognized,  with  a  clean-shaven 
face  and  different  toggery  altogether,  but  at  any  rate  it  is 
as  well  that  evervone  but  yourself  should  believe  that,  aa 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEND.  79 

I  have  given  out,  I  have  gone  abroad  again.  I  shall  keep 
your  I.  0.  XL's,  but  I  promise  you  that  you  shall  hear  no 
more  of  them  as  long  as  you  hold  your  tongue  as  to  what 
I  have  just  told  you.  Possibly  I  may  some  day  need  your 
assistance,  and  in  that  case  shall  know  where  to  write  to 
you." 

It  was  not  until  after  a  great  deal  of  thought  that  John 
Simeoe  had  determined  thus  far  to  take  Dawkins  into  his 
confidence,  but  he  concluded  at  last  that  it  was  the  safest 
thing  to  do.  He  was,  as  he  knew,  often  sent  by  the  firm 
with  any  communications  that  they  might  have  to  make 
to  their  clients,  and  should  he  meet  him  at  the  General's 
he  might  recognize  him  and  give  him  some  trouble.  He 
had  made  no  secret  that  he  had  turned  his  hand  to  many 
callings,  and  that  his  doings  in  the  southern  seas  would 
not  always  bear  close  investigation,  and  the  fact  that  he 
had  once  kept  a  billiard  room  could  do  him  no  special 
harm.  As  to  the  will,  Dawkins  certainly  would  not  ven- 
ture to  own  that  he  had  repeated  outside  what  had  been 
done  in  the  office.  The  man  might  be  useful  to  him  in 
the  future.  It  was  more  than  probable  he  would  again 
involve  himself  in  debt,  and  was  just  the  weak  and  empty- 
headed  young  fellow  who  might  be  made  a  convenient 
tool  should  he  require  one. 

So  Elephant  Court  knew  Mr.  Wilkinson  no  more,  and 
certainly  none  of  the  habitues  could  have  recognized  him 
in  the  smooth-shaven  and  faultlessly  dressed  man  whom 
they  might  meet  coming  out  of  a  West  End  club.  Daw- 
kins often  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind,  after  his 
first  relief  had  passed  at  finding  the  debt  that  had  weighed 
so  heavily  upon  him  perfectly  wiped  out. 

"  There  ought  to  be  money  in  it,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  but  I  don't  see  where  it  comes  in.  In  the  first  place  I 
could  not  say  he  had  kept  a  gambling  place  without  ac- 
knowledging that  I  had  often  been  there,  and  I  could  not 
say  that  it  was  a  conversation  of  mine  tibout  the  General's 
will  that  put  it  into  his  head  to  call  upon  him,  and  lastly, 
he  has  me  on  the  hip  with  those  I.  0.  U.'s.  Possibly  if 
the  General  does  leave  him  money,  I  may  manage  to  get 


80  THE  LOST  HEIB. 

some  out  of  him,  though  I  am  by  no  means  sure  of  that. 
He  is  not  a  safe  man  to  meddle  with,  and  he  might  cer- 
tainly do  me  more  harm  than  I  could  do  him." 

The  matter  had  dropped  somewhat  from  his  mind 
when,  three  months  later,  General  Mathieson  came  into 
the  office  to  have  an  interview  with  his  principals. 

After  he  had  left  the  managing  clerk  was  called  in. 
On  returning,  he  handed  Dawkins  a  sheet  of  paper. 

"  You  will  prepare  a  fresh  will  for  General  Mathieson; 
it  is  to  run  exactly  as  at  present,  but  this  legacy  is  to  be 
inserted  after  that  to  Miss  Covington.  It  might  just  as 
well  have  been  put  in  a  codicil,  but  the  General  preferred 
to  have  it  in  the  body  of  the  will." 

Dawkins  looked  at  the  instruction.  It  contained  the 
words:  "To  John  Simcoe,  at  present  residing  at  132 
Jermyn  Street,  I  bequeath  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
pounds,  as  a  token  of  my  gratitude  for  his  heroic  conduct 
in  saving  my  life  at  the  cost  of  great  personal  injury  to 
himself  from  the  grip  of  a  tiger,  in  the  year  1831." 

"  By  Jove,  he  has  done  well  for  himself!  "  Dawkins  mut- 
tered, as  he  sat  down  to  his  desk  after  the  managing 
clerk  had  handed  him  the  General's  will  from  the  iron  box 
containing  papers  and  documents  relating  to  his  affairs. 
"Ten  thousand  pounds!  I  wish  I  could  light  upon  a 
general  in  a  fix  of  some  sort,  though  I  don't  know  that  I 
should  care  about  a  tiger.  It  is  wonderful  what  luck 
some  men  have.  I  ought  to  get  something  out  of  this,  if 
I  could  but  see  my  way  to  it.  Fancy  the  keeper  of  a  bil- 
liard room  and  gaming  house  coming  in  for  such  a  haul 
as  this!     It  is  disgusting!  " 

He  set  about  preparing  a  draft  of  the' will,  but  he  found 
it  difficult  to  keep  his  attention  fixed  upon  his  work,  and 
when  the  chief  clerk  ran  his  eye  over  it  he  looked  up  in 
indignant  surprise. 

"  What  on  earth,  is  the  matter  with  you,  Mr.  Dawkins? 
The  thing  is  full  of  the  most  disgraceful  blunders.  In 
several  cases  it  is  not  even  sense.  During  all  the  time 
that  I  have  been  in  this  office  I  have  never  had  such  a  dis- 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEND.  81 

graceful  piece  of  work  come  into  my  hands  before.  Why, 
if  the  office  boy  had  been  told  to  make  a  copy  of  the  will, 
he  would  have  done  it  vastly  better.  What  does  it 
mean?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  Dawkins  said,  "  but  I  don't  feel 
very  well  to-day;  and  I  have  got  such  a  headache  that  I 
can  scarcely  see  what  I  am  writing." 

"  Well,  well,"  his  superior  said,  somewhat  mollified, 
"  that  will  account  for  it.  I  thought  at  first  that  you 
must  have  been  drinking.  You  had  better  take  your  hat 
and  be  off.  Go  to  the  nearest  chemist  and  take  a  dose, 
and  then  go  home  and  lie  down.  You  are  worse  than  of 
no  use  in  the  state  that  you  are.  I  hope  that  you  will  be 
all  right  in  the  morning,  for  we  are,  as  you  know,  very 
busy  at  present,  and  cannot  spare  a  hand.  Tear  up  that 
draft  and  hand  the  will  and  instructions  to  Mr.  Macleod. 
The  General  will  be  down  here  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
to  see  it;  he  is  like  most  military  men,  sharp  and  prompt, 
and  when  he  wants  a  thing  done  he  expects  to  have  it  done 
at  once." 

"  You  are  feeling  better,  I  hope,  this  morning?  "  he 
said,  when  Dawkins  came  into  the  office  at  the  usual  hour 
next  day,  "  though  I  must  say  that  you  look  far  from  well. 
Do  you  think  that  you  are  capable  of  work  ?  " 
"  I  think  so,  sir;  at  any  rate  my  head  is  better." 
It  was  true  that  the  clerk  did  not  look  well,  for  he  had 
had  no  sleep  all  night,  but  had  tossed  restlessly  in  Led, 
endeavoring,  but  in  vain,  to  hit  on  some  manner  of  ex- 
tracting a  portion  of  the  legacy  from  the  ex-proprietor  of 
the  gambling  house.  The  more  he  thought,  the  more 
hopeless  seemed  the  prospect.  John  Simcoe  was  emi- 
nently a. man  whom  it  would  be  unsafe  to  anger.  The 
promptness  and  decision  of  his  methods  had  gained  him 
at  least  the  respect  of  all  the  frequenters  of  his  estab- 
lishment, and  just  as  he  had  sternly  kept  order  there,  so 
he  would  deal  with  any  individual  who  crossed  his  path. 
He  held  the  best  cards,  too;  and  while  a  disclosure  of  the 
past  could  hardly  injure  him  seriously,  he  had  the  means 


82  TEE  LOST  EEIB. 

of  causing  the  ruin  and  disgrace  of  Dawkins  himself,  if  he 
ventured  to  attack  him. 

The  clerk  was  himself  shrewd  in  his  own  way,  but  he 
had  the  sense  to  feel  that  he  was  no  match  for  John  Sim- 
coe,  and  the  conclusion  that  he  finally  came  to  was  that 
he  must  wait  and  watch  events,  and  that,  so  far  as  he 
could  see,  his  only  chance  of  obtaining  a  penny  of  the 
legacy  was  to  follow  implicitly  the  instructions  Simcoe 
had  given  him,  in  which  case  possibly  he  might  receive  a 
present  when  the  money  was  paid. 

About  a  fortnight  after  he  knew  the  will  had  been 
signed  by  General  Mathieson,  Simcoe  went  down  to  a 
small  house  on  Pentonville  Hill,  where  one  of  the  ablest 
criminals  in  London  resided,  passing  unsuspected  under 
the  eyes  of  the  police  in  the  character  of  a  man  engaged 
in  business  in  the  City.  A  peculiar  knock  brought  him  to 
the  door. 

"Ah,  is  it  you,  Simcoe?"  he  said;  "why,  I  have  not 
seen  you  for  months.  I  did  not  know  you  for  the  mo- 
ment, for  you  have  taken  all  the  hair  off  your  face." 

"  I  have  made  a  change,  Harrison.  I  have  given  up 
the  billiard  rooms,  and  am  now  a  swell  with  lodgings  in 
Jermyn  Street." 

"That  is  a  change!  I  thought  you  said  the  billiards 
and  cards  paid  well;  but  I  suppose  you  have  got  something 
better  in  view?  " 

"  They  did  pay  well,  but  I  have  a  very  big  thing  in 
hand." 

"  That  is  the  right  line  to  take  up,"  the  other  said. 
"  You  were  sure  to  get  into  trouble  with  the  police  about 
the  card-playing  before  long,  and  then  the  place  would 
have  been  shut  up,  and  you  might  have  got  three  months; 
and  when  you  got  out  the  peelers  would  have  kept  their 
eyes  upon  you,  and  your  chances  would  have  been  at  an 
end.  No,  I  have  never  had  anything  to  do  with  small 
affairs;  I  go  in,  as  you  know,  for  big  things.  They  take 
time  to  work  out,  it  is  true;  and  after  all  one's  trouble, 
something  may  go  wrong  at  the  last  moment,  and  the 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEND.  83 

thing  has  to  be  given  up.  Some  girl  who  has  been  got  at 
makes  a  fool  of  herself,  and  gets  discharged  a  week  before 
it  comes  off;  or  a  lady  takes  it  into  her  head  to  send  her 
jewels  to  a  banker's,  and  go  on  to  the  Continent  a  week 
earlier  than  she  intended  to  do.  Then  there  is  a  great 
loss  in  getting  rid  of  the  stuff.  Those  sharps  at  Amster- 
dam don't  give  more  than  a  fifth  of  the  value  for  dia- 
monds. It  is  a  heart-rending  game,  on  the  whole;  but 
there  is  such  excitement  about  the  life  that  when  one  has 
once  taken  it  up  it  is  seldom  indeed  that  one  changes  it, 
though  one  knows  that,  sooner  or  later,  one  is  sure  to 
make  a  slip  and  get  caught.  Now,  what  will  you  take? 
Champagne  or  brandy?" 

"  I  know  that  your  brandy  is  first-rate,  Harrison,  and 
I  will  sample  it  again." 

"  I  have  often  thought,"  went  on  the  other,  after  the 
glasses  had  been  filled  and  cigars  lighted,  "  what  a  rum 
thing  it  was  that  you  should  come  across  my  brother  Bill 
out  among  the  islands.  He  had  not  written  to  me  for  a 
long  time,  and  I  had  never  expected  to  hear  of  him  again. 
I  thought  that  he  had  gone  down  somehow,  and  had  either 
been  eaten  by  sharks  or  killed  by  the  natives,  or  shot  in 
some  row  with  his  mates.  He  was  two  years  older  than  I 
was,  and,  as  I  have  told  you,  we  were  sons  of  a  well-to-do 
auctioneer  in  the  country;  but  he  was  a  hard  man,  and 
we  could  not  stand  it  after  a  time,  so  we  made  a  bolt  for 
it.  We  were  decently  dressed  when  we  got  to  London. 
As  we  had  been  at  a  good  school  at  home,  and  were  both 
pretty  sharp,  we  thought  that  we  should  have  no  difficulty 
in  getting  work  of  some  sort. 

"  We  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  No  one  would  take  us 
without  a  character,  so  we  got  lower  and  lower,  till  we 
got  to  know  some  boys  who  took  us  to  what  was  called  a 
thieves'  kitchen — a  place  where  boys  were  trained  as  pick- 
pockets. The  old  fellow  who  kept  it  saw  that  we  were  fit 
for  higher  game  than  was  usual,  and  instead  of  being  sent 
out  to  pick  up  what  we  could  get  in  the  streets  we  were 
dressed  as  we  had  been  before,  and  sent  to  picture- 
galleries  and  museums  and  cricket  matches,  and  we  soon 


84  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

became  first-rate  hands,  and  did  well.  In  a  short  time 
we  didn't  see  why  we  should  work  for  another  man,  and 
we  left  him  without  saying  good-by. 

"  It  was  not  long  before  he  paid  us  out.  He  knew  that 
we  should  go  on  at  the  same  work,  and  dressed  up  two  or 
three  of  his  boys  and  sent  them  to  these  places,  and  one 
day  when  Bill  was  just  pocketing  a  watch  at  Lord's  one  of 
these  boys  shouted  out,  '  Thief!  thief!  That  boy  has 
stolen  your  watch,  sir,'  and  Bill  got  three  months,  though 
the  boy  could  not  appear  against  him,  for  I  followed  him 
after  they  had  nabbed  Bill,  and  pretty  nearly  killed  him. 

"  Then  I  went  on  my  travels,  and  was  away  two  or  three 
years  from  London.  Bill  had  been  out  and  in  again 
twice;  he  was  too  rash  altogether.  I  took  him  away  with 
me,  but  I  soon  found  that  it  would  not  do,  and  that  it 
would  soon  end  in  our  both  being  shut  up.  So  I  put  it 
fairly  to  him. 

"  '  We  are  good  friends,  you  know,  Bill,'  I  said,  '  but  it 
is  plain  to  me  that  we  can't  work  together  with  advan- 
tage. You  are  twenty  and  I  am  eighteen,  but,  as  you 
have  often  said  yourself,  I  have  got  the  best  head  of  the 
two.  I  am  tired  of  this  sort  of  work.  When  we  get  a 
gold  ticker,  worth  perhaps  twenty  pounds,  we  can't  get 
above  two  for  it,  and  it  is  the  same  with  everything  else. 
It  is  not  good  enough.  We  have  been  away  from  London 
so  long  that  old  Isaacs  must  have  forgotten  all  about  us. 
I  have  not  been  copped  yet,  and  as  I  have  got  about 
twenty  pounds  in  my  pocket  I  can  take  lodgings  as  a  young 
chap  who  has  come  up  to  walk  the  hospitals,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  If  you  like  to  live  with  me,  quiet,  we 
will  work  together;  if  not,  it  is  best  that  we  should  each 
go  our  own  way — always  being  friends,  you  know.' 

"  Bill  said  that  was  fair  enough,  but  that  he  liked  a 
little  life  and  to  spend  his  money  freely  when  he  got  it. 
So  we  separated.  Bill  got  two  more  convictions,  and  the 
last  time  it  was  a  case  of  transportation.  We  had  agreed 
between  ourselves  that  if  either  of  us  got  into  trouble  the 
other  should  call  once  a  month  at  the  house  of  a  woman 
we  knew  to  ask  for  letters,  and  I  did  that  regularly  after 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEm^  85 

he  was  sent  out.  I  got  a  few  letters  from  him.  The  first 
was  written  after  he  had  made  his  escape.  He  told  me 
that  he  intended  to  stay  out  there — it  was  a  jolly  life,  and 
a  free  one,  I  expect.  Pens  and  paper  were  not  common 
where  he  was;  anyhow  he  only  wrote  once  a  year  or  so, 
and  it  was  two  years  since  I  had  heard  from  him  when  you 
wrote  and  said  you  had  brought  me  a  message  from  Bill. 

"  Ever  since  we  parted  I  have  gone  on  the  same  line, 
only  I. have  worked  carefully.  I  was  not  a  bad-looking 
chap,  and  hadn't  much  difficulty  in  getting  over  servant 
girls  and  finding  out  where  things  were  to  be  had,  so  I 
gradually  got  on.  For  years  now  I  have  only  carried  on 
big  affairs,  working  the  thing  up  and  always  employing 
other  hands  to  carry  the  job  out.  None  of  them  know 
me  here.  I  meet  them  at  quiet  pubs  and  arrange  things 
there,  and  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  am  so  disguised  that 
none  of  the  fellows  who  follow  my  orders  would  know  me 
again  if  they  met  me  in  the  street.  I  could  retire  if  I 
liked,  and  live  in  a  villa  and  keep  my  carriage.  Why,  I 
made  five  thousand  pounds  as  my  share  of  that  bullion 
robbery  between  London  and  Brussels.  But  I  know  that 
I  should  be  miserable  without  anything  to  do;  as  it  is,  I 
unite  amusement  with  business.  I  sometimes  take  a  stall 
at  the  Opera,  and  occasionally  I  find  a  diamond  necklace 
in  my  pocket  when  I  get  home.  I  know  well  enough  that 
it  is  foolish,  but  when  I  see  a  thing  that  I  need  only  put 
out  my  hand  to  have,  my  old  habit  is  too  strong  for  me. 
Then  I  often  walk  into  swell  entertainments.  You  have 
only  to  be  well  got  up,  and  to  go  rather  late,  so  that  the 
hostess  has  given  up  expecting  arrivals  and  is  occupied 
with  her  guests,  and  the  flunky  takes  your  hat  without 
question,  and  you  go  upstairs  and  mix  with  the  people. 
In  that  way  you  get  to  know  as  to  the  women  who  have 
the  finest  jewels,  and  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  out 
their  names.  I  have  got  hold  of  some  very  good  things 
that  way,  but  though  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty 
in  taking  some  of  them  at  the  time,  I  never  yielded  to  that 
temptation.  In  a  crowded  room  one  never  can  say  whose 
eyes  may  happen  to  be  looking  in  your  direction. 


86  Til  hi  LOST  HEIR. 

"  I  wonder  tnat  you  never  turned  your  thoughts  tnat 
way.  From  what  you  have  told  me  of  your  doings  abroad, 
I  know  that  you  are  not  squeamish  in  your  ideas,  and  with 
your  appearance  you  ought  to  be  able  to  go  anywhere 
without  suspicion." 

"  I  am  certainly  not  squeamish,"  Simcoe  said,  "  but  I 
have  not  had  the  training.  One  wants  a  little  practice 
and  to  begin  young,  as  you  did,  to  try  that  game  on. 
However,  just  at  present  I  have  a  matter  in  hand  that  will 
set  me  up  for  life  if  it  turns  out  well,  but  I  shall  want  a 
little  assistance.  In  the  first  place  I  want  to  get  hold  of 
a  man  who  could  make  one  up  well,  and  who,  if  I  gave  him 
a  portrait,  could  turn  me  out  so  like  the  original  that  any- 
one who  had  only  seen  him  casually  would  take  me  for 
him." 

"  There  is  a  man  down  in  Whitechapel  who  is  the  best 
hand  in  London  at  that  sort  of  thing.  He  is  a  downright 
artist.  Several  times  when  I  have  had  particular  jobs  in 
hand,  inquiries  I  could  not  trust  anyone  else  to  make,  I 
have  been  to  him,  and  when  he  has  done  with  me  and  I 
have  looked  in  the  glass  there  was  not  the  slightest  re- 
semblance to  my  own  face  in  it.  I  suppose  the  man  you 
want  to  represent  is  somewhere  about  your  own  height?" 

"Yes,  I  should  say  that  he  is  as  nearly  as  may  be  the 
same.     He  is  an  older  man  than  I  am." 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing!  He  could  make  you  look  eighty 
if  you  wanted  it.  Here  is  the  man's  address;  his  usual 
fee  is  a  guinea,  but,  as  you  want  to  be  got  up  to  resemble 
someone  else,  he  might  charge  you  double." 

"  The  fee  is  nothing,"  Simcoe  said.  "  Then  again,  I 
may  want  to  get  hold  of  a  man  who  is  a  good  hand  at  imi- 
tating handwriting." 

"  That  is  easy  enough.  Here  is  the  address  of  a  man 
who  does  little  jobs  for  me  sometimes,  and  is,  I  think,  the 
best  hand  at  it  in  England.  You  see,  sometimes  there  is 
in  a  house  where  you  intend  to  operate  some  confound- 
edly active  and  officious  fellow — a  butler  or  a  footman — 
who  might  interrupt  proceedings.  His  master  is  in  Lon- 
don, and  he  receives  a  note  from  him  ordering  him  to 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEND.  87 

come  up  to  town  with  a  dressing  case,  portmanteau,  guns, 
or  something  of  that  kind,  as  may  be  suitable  to  the  case. 
I  got  a  countess  out  of  the  way  once  by  a  messenger  arriv- 
ing on  horseback  with  a  line  from  her  husband,  saying 
that  he  had  met  with  an  accident  in  the  hunting-field,  and 
begging  her  to  come  to  him.  Of  course  I  have  always 
previously  managed  to  get  specimens  of  handwriting,  and 
my  man  imitates  them  so  well  that  they  have  never  once 
failed  in  their  action.  I  will  give  you  a  line  to  him,  say- 
ing that  you  are  a  friend  of  mine.  He  knows  me  under 
the  name  of  Sinclair.  As  a  stranger  you  would  hardly 
get  him  to  act." 

"  Of  course,  he  is  thoroughly  trustworthy?  "  Simcoe 
asked. 

"  I  should  not  employ  him  if  he  were  not,"  the  other 
said.  "  He  was  a  writing-master  at  one  time,  but  took  to 
drink,  and  went  altogether  to  the  bad.  He  is  always  more 
or  less  drunk  now,  and  you  had  better  go  to  him  before 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  don't  say  that  he  will  be 
quite  sober,  but  he  will  be  less  drunk  than  he  will  be  later. 
As  soon  as  he  begins  to  write  he  pulls  himself  together. 
He  puts  a  watchmaker's  glass  in  his  eye  and  closely  ex- 
amines the  writing  that  he  has  to  imitate,  writes  a  few 
lines  to  accustom  himself  to  it,  and  then  writes  what  he 
is  told  to  do  as  quickly  and  as  easily  as  if  it  were  his  own 
handwriting.  He  hands  it  over,  takes  his  fee,  which  is 
two  guineas,  and  then  goes  out  to  a  public-house,  and  I 
don't  believe  that  the  next  day  he  has  the  slightest  re- 
membrance of  what  he  has  written." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Harrison;  I  think  that,  with 
the  assistance  of  these  two  men,  I  shall  be  able  to  work 
the  matter  I  have  in  hand  without  fear  of  a  hitch." 

"  Anything  else  I  can  do  for  you?  You  know  that  you 
can  rely  upon  me,  Simcoe.  You  were  with  poor  Bill  for 
six  years,  and  you  stood  by  him  to  the  last,  when  the 
natives  rose  and  massacred  the  whites,  and  you  got  Bill 
off,  and  if  he  did  die  afterwards  of  his  wounds,  anyhow 
you  did  your  best  to  save  him.  So  if  I  can  help  you  t  will 
*<■>  it,  whatever  it  is,  short  of  murder,  and  there  is  my 


88  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

hand  on  it.  You  know  in  any  case  I  could  not  round  on 
you." 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  business,  Harrison.  I  have 
thought  the  matter  pretty  well  out,  hut  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  have  your  opinion  on  it,  and  with  your  head  you 
are  like  to  see  the  thing  in  a  clearer  light  than  I  can,  and 
may  suggest  a  way  out  of  some  difficulties." 

He  then  unfolded  the  details  of  his  scheme. 

"  Very  good!  "  the  other  said  admiringly,  when  he  had 
finished.  "  It  does  credit  to  you,  Simcoe.  You  risked 
your  life,  and,  as  you  say,  very  nearly  lost  it  to  save  the 
General's,  and  have  some  sort  of  a  right  to  have  his 
money  when  he  has  done  with  it.  Your  plan  of  imper- 
sonating the  General  and  getting  another  lawyer  to  draw 
out  a  fresh  will  is  a  capital  one;  and  as  you  have  a  list. of 
the  bequests  he  made  in  his  old  one,  you  will  not  only  be 
able  to  strengthen  the  last  will,  but  will  disarm  the  oppo- 
sition of  those  who  would  have  benefited  by  the  first,  as 
no  one  will  suffer  by  the  change.  But  how  about  the 
boy?" 

"  The  boy  must  be  got  out  of  the  way  somehow." 

"  Not  by  foul  play,  I  hope,  Simcoe.  I  could  not  go 
with  you  there." 

"  Certainly  not.  That  idea  never  entered  my  mind; 
but  surely  there  can  be  no  difficulty  in  carrying  off  a  child 
of  that  age.  It  only  wants  two  to  do  that:  one  to  engage 
the  nurse  in  talk,  the  other  to  entice  the  child  away,  pop 
him  into  a  cab  waiting  hard  by,  and  drive  off  with  him." 

"  I  doubt  whether  the  courts  would  hand  over  the  prop- 
erty unless  they  had  some  absolute  proof  that  the  child 
was  dead." 

"  They  would  not  do  so  for  some  time,  no  doubt,  but 
evidence  might  be  manufactured.  At  any  rate  I  could 
wait.  They  would  probably  carry  out  all  the  other  pro- 
visions of  the  will,  and  with  the  ton  thousand  pounds  and 
the  three  or  four  thousand  I  have  saved  I  could  hold  on 
for  a  good  many  years." 

"  How  about  the  signature  to  the  will?  " 

"  I  can  manage  that  much,"  Simcoe  said.     "  I  had  some 


JOHN  SIMCOE'S  FRIEND.  89 

"s 

work  in  that  way  years  ago,  and  I  have  been  for  the  last 
three  months  practicing  the  General's,  and  I  think  now 
that  I  can  defy  any  expert  to  detect  the  difference.  Of 
course,  it  is  a  very  different  thing  learning  to  imitate  a 
signature  and  writing  a  long  letter." 

The  other  agreed,  and  added,  "  I  should  be  careful  to 
employ  a  firm  of  lawyers  of  long  standing.  If  you  were 
to  go  to  shady  people  it  would  in  itself  cause  suspicion." 

"  Yes,  I  quite  feel  that,  and  I  want,  if  possible,  to  get 
hold  of  people  who  just  know  the  General  by  sight,  so  as 
to  have  a  fairly  good  idea  of  his  face  without  knowing 
him  too  well.  I  think  I  know  of  one.  At  the  club  the 
other  day  Colonel  Bulstrode,  a  friend  of  the  General's, 
said  to  him,  '  I  wish  you  would  drive  round  with  me  to  my 
lawyers  ';  their  place  is  in  the  Temple.  I  want  someone 
to  sign  as  a  witness  to  a  deed,  and  as  it  is  rather  impor- 
tant, I  would  rather  have  it  witnessed  by  a  friend  than  by 
one  of  the  clerks.     It  won't  take  you  a  minute.'  " 

"  I  should  think  that  would  do  very  well;  they  would 
not  be  likely  to  notice  iiim  very  particularly,  and  prob- 
ably the  General  would  not  have  spoken  at  all.  He  would 
just  have  seen  his  friend  sign  the  deed,  and  then  have 
affixed  his  own  signature  as  a  witness.  Well,  everything 
seems  in  your  favor,  and  should  you  need  any  help  you 
can  rely  upon  me." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

GENERAL    MATHIESON'S    SEIZURE. 

Three  months  later  John  Simcoe  called  for  a  letter 
directed  to  "  Mr.  Jackson,  care  of  William  Scriven,  To- 
bacconist, Fetter  Lane."  The  address  was  in  his  own 
handwriting.  He  carried  it  home  before  opening  it. 
The  writing  was  rough  and  the  spelling  villainous. 

"  Samoa. 
"It  Dear  Jack:  I  was  mitely  glad  when  the  old  brig 
came  in  and  Captain  Jephson  handed  me  a  letter  from 
you,  and  as  you  may  guess  still  more  pleased  to  find  with 
it  an  order  for  fifty  pounds.  It  was  good  and  harty  of 
you,  but  you  alius  was  the  right  sort.  I  have  dun  as  you 
asked  me;  I  went  to  the  wich  man  and  for  twelve  bottles 
of  rum  he  gave  me  the  packet  inclosed  of  the  stuff  he  uses. 
There  aint  much  of  it,  but  it  is  mitely  strong.  About  as 
much  as  will  lie  on  the  end  of  a  knife  will  make  a  man 
foam  at  the  mouth  and  fall  into  convulsions,  three  times 
as  much  as  that  will  kill  him  outrite.  He  says  there  aint 
no  taste  in  it.  I  hope  this  will  suit  your  purpus.  You 
will  be  sorry  to  hear  that  Long  Peter  has  been  wiped  out; 
he  was  spered  by  a  native,  who  thort  Pete  wanted  to  run 
away  with  his  wife,  wich  I  don't  believe  he  did  for  she 
wernt  no  way  a  beuty.  Vigors  is  in  a  bad  way;  he  has  had 
the  shakes  bad  twice  and  I  don't  think  that  he  can  last 
much  longer.  Trade  is  bad  here,  but  now  I  have  got  the 
rino  I  shall  buy  another  cocoanut  plantation  and  two  or 
three  more  wives  to  work  it,  and  shall  be  comfortible.  I 
am  a  pore  hand  with  the  pen,  so  no  more  from  your  friend, 

"  Ben  Stokes." 

9tt 


0BJSERAL  MATHIESON'8  SEIZURE.  91 

A  week  later  Hilda  wrote  to  her  friend: 

"  My  Deab  Netta:  I  am  writing  in  great  distltes. 
Three  days  ago  uncle  had  a  terrible  fit.  He  was  seized 
with  it  at  the  club,  and  I  hear  that  his  struggles  were 
dreadful.  It  was  a  sort  of  convulsion.  He  was  sensible 
when  he  was  brought  home,  but  very  weak;  he  does  not 
remember  anything  about  it.  Fortunately,  Dr.  Pearson, 
who  always  attends  us,  was  one  of  the  party,  and  he  sent 
off  cabs  for  two  others.  Dr.  Pearson  came  home  with 
him.  Of  course  I  asked  him  what  it  was,  and  he  said  that 
it  was  a  very  unusual  case,  and  that  he  and  the  other  doc- 
tors had  not  yet  come  to  any  decision  upon  it,  as  none  of 
them  had  ever  seen  one  precisely  like  it.  He  said  that 
some  of  the  symptoms  were  those  of  an  epileptic  fit,  but 
the  convulsions  were  so  violent  that  they  rather  resembled 
tetanus  than  an  ordinary  fit.  Altogether  he  seemed 
greatly  puzzled,  and  he  would  give  no  opinion  as  to 
whether  it  was  likely  to  recur.  Uncle  is  better  to-day; 
he  told  me  that  he,  Mr.  Simcoe,  and  four  others  had  been 
dining  together.  He  had  just  drunk  his  coffee  when  the 
room  seemed  to  swim  round,  and  he  remembered  nothing 
more  until  he  found  himself  in  bed  at  home.  Mr.  Simcoe 
came  home  with  him,  and  the  doctor  said,  I  must  acknowl- 
edge, that  no  one  could  have  been  kinder  than  he  was. 
He  looked  quite  ill  from  the  shock  that  he  had  had.  But 
still  I  don't  like  him,  Netta;  in  fact,  I  think  I  dislike  him 
more  and  more  every  day.  I  often  tell  myself  that  I  have 
not  a  shadow  of  reason  for  doing  so,  but  I  can't  help  it. 
You  may  call  it  prejudice:  I  call  it  instinct. 

"  You  can  well  imagine  how  all  this  has  shocked  me. 
Uncle  seemed  so  strong  and  well  that  I  have  always 
thought  he  would  live  to  a  great  age.  He  is  sixty-eight, 
but  I  am  sure  he  looks  ten  years  younger — at  least  he  did 
so;  at  present  he  might  be  ninety.  But  I  can  only  hope 
that  the  change  is  temporary,  and  that  he  will  soon  be  his 
dear  self  again.  The  three  doctors  are  going  to  have  a 
meeting  here  to-morrow.  I  shall  be  anxious,  indeed,  to 
hear  the  result.     I  hope  that  they  will  order  him  a  change, 


92  TEE  LOST  EEIR. 

and  that  wc  can  go  down  together,  either  to  his  place  or 
mine;  then  I  can  always  be  with  him,  whereas  here  he  goes 
his  way  and  I  go  mine,  and  except  at  meal-times  we 
scarcely  meet.  If  he  does  go  I  shall  try  and  persuade  him 
to  engage  a  medical  man  to  go  with  us.  Of  course,  I  do 
not  know  whether  a  doctor  could  be  of  any  actual  use  in 
case  of  another  attack,  but  it  would  be  a  great  comfort  to 
have  one  always  at  hand." 

The  letter  stopped  here,  and  was  continued  on  the  fol- 
lowing evening. 

"  The  consultation  is  over;  Dr.  Pearson  had  a  long  talk 
with  me  afterwards.  He  said  that  it  was  without  doubt 
an  epileptic  fit,  but  that  it  differed  in  many  respects  from 
the  general  type  of  that  malady,  and  that  all  of  them  were 
to  some  extent  puzzled.  They  had  brought  with  them  a 
fourth  doctor,  Sir  Henry  Havercourt,  who  is  the  greatest 
authority  on  such  maladies.  He  had  seen  uncle,  and 
asked  him  a  few  questions,  and  had  a  talk  with  Dr.  Pear- 
son, and  had  from  him  a  minute  account  of  the  seizure. 
He  pronounced  it  a  most  interesting  and,  as  far  as  he 
knew,  a  unique  case,  and  expressed  a  wish  to  come  as  a 
friend  to  see  how  the  General  was  getting  on.  Of  course 
he  inquired  about  his  habits,  asked  what  he  had  had  for 
dinner,  and  so  on. 

" '  The  great  point,  Dr.  Pearson,'  I  said,  after  the  con- 
sultation was  over,  '  is,  of  course,  whether  there  is  likely 
to  be  any  recurrence  of  the  attack.'  '  That  is  more  than 
I  can  say,'  he  answered  gravely;  '  at  present  he  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  recovered  altogether  from  the  effects  of 
this  one,  which  is  in  itself  an  unusual  feature  in  the  case. 
As  a  rule,  when  a  person  recovers  from  an  epileptic  fit  he 
recovers  altogether — that  is  to  say.  he  is  able  to  walk  and 
talk  as  before,  and  his  face  shews  little  or  no  sign  of  the 
struggle  that  he  has  undergone.  In  this  case  the  re- 
covery is  not  altogether  complete.  You  may  have  noticed 
that  his  voice  is  not  only  weak,  but  there  is  a  certain  hesi- 
tation in  it.     His  face  has  not  altogether  recovered  its 


GENERAL  MAl'HIESON'8  SEIZURE.  93 

natural  expression,  and  is  slightly,  very  slightly,  drawn 
on  one  side,  which  would  seem  to  point  to  paralysis;  while 
in  other  respects  the  attack  was  as  unlike  a  paralytic 
stroke  as  it  could  well  have  been.  Thus,  you  see,  it  is 
difficult  in  the  extreme  for  us  to  give  any  positive  opinion 
concerning  a  case  which  is  so  entirely  an  exceptional  one. 
We  can  only  hope  for  the  best,  and  trust  to  the  strength 
of  his  constitution.  At  any  rate,  we  all  agree  that  he 
needs  absolute  quiet  and  very  simple  and  plain  diet.  You 
see,  he  has  been  a  great  diner-out;  and  though  an  ab- 
stemious man  in  the  way  of  drinking,  he  thoroughly  ap- 
preciates a  good  dinner.  All  this  must  be  given  up,  at 
any  rate  for  a  time.  I  should  say  that  as  soon  as  he  is  a 
little  stronger,  you  had  better  take  him  down  into  the 
country.  Let  him  see  as  few  visitors  as  possible,  and  only; 
very  intimate  friends.  I  do  not  mean  that  he  should  be 
lonely  or  left  to  himself;  on  the  contrary,  quiet  com- 
panionship and  talk  are  desirable.' 

"  I  said  that  though  the  country  might  be  best  for  him, 
there  was  no  medical  man  within  three  miles  of  his  place, 
and  it  would  be  terrible  were  we  to  have  an  attack,  and 
not  know  what  to  do  for  it.  He  said  that  he  doubted  if 
anything  could  be  done  when  he  was  in  such  a  state  as  he 
was  the  other  night,  beyond  sprinkling  his  face  with 
water,  and  that  he  himself  felt  powerless  in  the  case  of  an 
attack  that  was  altogether  beyond  his  experience.  Of 
course  he  said  it  was  out  of  the  question  that  I  should  be 
down  there  alone  with  him,  but  that  I  must  take  down  an 
experienced  nurse.  He  strongly  recommended  that  she 
should  not  wear  hospital  uniform,  as  this  would  be  a 
constant  reminder  of  "his  illness. 

"  I  said  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  have  a  medical 
man  in  the  house.  Money  was  no  object,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  from  what  he  said  that  it  would  also  be  desirable 
that,  besides  being  a  skillful  doctor,  he  should  be  also  a 
pleasant  and  agreeable  man,  who  would  be  a  cheerful  com- 
panion to  him  as  well  as  a  medical  attendant. 

"  He  agreed  that  this  would  certainly  be  very  desirable, 
and  that  he  and  the  others  were  all  anxious  that  the  case 


94  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

should  be  watched  very  carefully.  He  said  that  he  would 
think  the  matter  over,  and  that  if  he  could  not  find  just 
the  man  that  would  suit,  he  would  ask  Sir  Henry  Haver- 
court  to  recommend  us  one. 

"  He  said  there  were  many  clever  young  men  to  whom 
such  an  engagement  for  a  few  months  would  be  a  godsend. 
He  intended  to  run  down  himself  once  a  fortnight,  from 
Saturday  until  Monday,  which  he  could  do,  as  his  practice 
was  to  a  large  extent  a  consulting  one.  I  could  see  plainly 
enough  that  though  he  evidently  put  as  good  a  face  upon 
it  as  he  could,  he  and  the  other  doctors  took  by  no  means 
a  hopeful  view  of  the  case. 

"  It  is  all  most  dreadful,  Netta,  and  I  can  hardly  realize 
that  only  three  days  ago  everything  was  bright  and  happy, 
while  now  it  seems  that  everything  is  uncertain  and  dark. 
There  was  one  thing  the  doctor  said  that  pleased  me,  and 
that  was,  '  Don't  let  any  of  his  town  friends  in  to  see  him; 
and  I  think  that  it  would  be  as  well  that  none  of  them 
should  go  down  to  visit  him  in  the  country.  Let  him  be 
kept  altogether  free  from  anything  that  would  in  the 
smallest  degree  excite  him  or  set  his  brain  working.'  I 
told  him  that  no  one  had  seen  him  yet,  and  that  I  would 
take  good  care  that  no  one  should  see  him;  and  I  need 
hardly  tell  you  that  Mr.  Simcoe  will  be  the  first  person  to 
be  informed  of  the  doctor's  orders." 

A  week  later  General  Mathieson  came  downstairs  for 
the  first  time.  The  change  in  him  was  even  greater  than 
it  had  seemed  to  be  when  he  was.  Lying  on  the  sofa  in  his 
room;  and  Tom  Eoberts,  who  had  been  the  General's 
soldier-servant  .years  before,  and  had  been  in  his  service 
since  he  left  the  army,  had  difficulty  in  restraining  his 
tears  as  he  entered,  with  his  master  leaning  heavily  on  his 
arm. 

"  I  am  shaky,  my  dear  Hilda,  very  shaky,"  the  General 
said.  "  I  feel  just  as  I  did  when  I  was  laid  up  with  a  bad 
attack  of  jungle  fever  in  India.  However,  no  doubt  I 
shall  pick  up  soon,  just  I  did  then.  Pearson  tells  me 
that  he  and  th^  others  agree  that  I  mup*  go  down  into 


JEJVEBAL  MATHIESON'S  SEIZURE.  95 

the  country,  and  I  suppose  I  must  obey  orders.  Where 
is  it  we  are  to  go?  " 

"  To  your  own  place,  uncle." 

"My  own  place?"  he  repeated  doubtfully,  and  then 
after  a  pause,  "  Oh,  yes,  of  course!     Oh,  yes! " 

There  was  a  troubled  look  in  his  face,  as  if  he  was  try- 
ing to  recall  memories  that  had  somehow  escaped  him, 
and  Hilda,  resolutely  repressing  the  impulse  to  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears,  said  cheerfully: 

"  Yes,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  be  back  at  Holmwood. 
We  won't  go  down  by  train,  uncle.  Dr.  Pearson  does  not 
think  that  you  are  strong  enough  for  that  yet.  He  is 
going  to  arrange  for  a  comfortable  carriage  in  which  you 
can  lie  down  and  rest.  We  shall  make  an  early  start.  He 
will  arrange  for  horses  to  be  sent  down  so  that  we  can 
change  every  ten  or  twelve  miles,  and  arrive  there  early  in 
the  afternoon.     It  is  only  seventy  miles,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  have  driven  up  from  there  by  the  coach  many 
a  time  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  sometimes  since;  have  I  not, 
Tom?" 

"  Yes,  General.  The  railway  was  not  made  till  six  or 
seven  years  ago." 

"  No,  the  railway  wasn't  made,  Hilda;  at  least,  not  all 
the  way." 

Hilda  made  signs  to  Tom  not  to  leave  the  room,  and 
iie  stood  by  his  master's  shoulder,  prompting  him  occa- 
sionally when  his  memory  failed  him. 

"  You  must  get  strong  very  fast,  uncle,  for  Dr.  Pear- 
son said  that  you  cannot  go  until  you  are  more  fit  to  bear 
the  fatigue." 

"I  shall  soon  get  strong,  my  dear.    What  is  to-day?" 

"  To-day  is  Friday,  uncle." 

"  Somehow  I  have  lost  count  of  days,"  he  said.  "  Well, 
I  should  think  that  I  shall  be  fit  to  go  early  next  week;  it 
is  not  as  if  we  were  going  to  ride  down.  I  was  always 
fond  of  riding,  and  I  hope  I  shall  soon  be  after  the  hounds 
again.     Let  me  see,  what  month  is  this?  " 

"It  is  early  in  June,  uncle;  and  the  country  will  be 
looking  its  best." 


TEE  LOST  EEIR. 


"  Yes,  yes;  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  strong 
before  cub-hunting  begins." 

So  the  conversation  dragged  on  for  another  half  hour 
the  General  s  words  coming  slower  and  slower,  and  at  the 
end L  of  that  time  he  dropped  asleep.  Hilda  made  a  sign 
to  Roberts  to  stay  with  him,  and  then  ran  up  to  her  own 
room,  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  burst  into  a  passion 
ol  tears.  Presently  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  her 
maia  came  in. 

'i  T°^  has  3'ust  sliPPed  out  from  the  dining  room,  miss, 
and  told  me  to  tell  you  that  the  General  was  sleeping  as 
peacefully  as  a  child,  and  he  thought  it  was  like  enough 
that  he  would  not  wake  for  hours.  He  said  that  when  he 
woke  he  and  William  would  get  him  up  to  his  own  room  " 
Thank  you,  Lucy."  The  door  closed  again.  Hilda 
got  up  from  the  bed  on  which  he  had  lain  down,  and 
buried  herself  in  the  depths  of  a  large  cushioned  chair, 
lhere  she  sat  thinking.  For  the  first  time  she  realized 
how  immense  was  the  change  in  her  uncle.  She  had  seen 
him  several  times  each  day,  but  he  had  spoken  but  a  few 
words,  and  it  only  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  drowsy  and 
disinclined  to  talk.  Now  she  saw  how  great  was  the  men- 
talmas  well  as  the  physical  weakness. 

"  It  is  terrible!  "  she  repeated  over  and  over  again  to 
herself.  <  What  a  wreck— oh,  what  a  dreadful  wreck! 
Will  he  ever  get  over  it?  " 

She  seemed  absolutely  unable  to  think.  Sometimes 
she  burst  into  sobs,  sometimes  she  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed 
before  her,  but  seeing  nothing,  and  her  fingers  twining 
restlessly  round  each  other.  Presently  the  door  opened 
very  gently,  and  a  voice  said,  "May  I  come  in?"  She 
sprang  to  her. feet  as  if  electrified,' while  a  glad  cry  of 
"Netta!  "  broke  from  her  lips.  A  moment  later  the  two 
girls  were  clasped  in  a  close  embrace. 

"  Oh,  Netta,  how  good  of  you! "  Hilda  said,  after  she 

had  sobbed  for  some  time  on  her  friend's  shoulder.     "  Oh 

what  a  relief  it  is  to  me!  "  ' 

"  Of  course  I  have  come,  you  foolish  girl.     You  did  not 

suppose  I  was  going  to  remain  away  after  your  letter? 


GENERAL  MATHIESON'S  SEIZURE.  97 

Aunt  is  with  me;  she  is  downstairs,  tidying  herself  up. 
We  shut  up  the  house  and  left  the  gardener  in  charge,  and 
here  we  are,  as  long  as  you  want  us." 

"  But  your  pupils,  Netta?  " 

"  I  handed  them  all  over  to  another  of  the  Professor's 
assistants,  so  we  need  not  bother  about  them.  I  told  aunt 
that  I  should  not  be  down  for  an  hour.  Mrs.  Brown  is 
looking  after  her,  and  getting  her  a  cup  of  tea,  and  I 
asked  her  to  bring  two  cups  up  here.  I  thought  that  you 
would  prefer  for  us  to  have  a  chat  by  ourselves.  Now  tell 
me  all  about  it,  dear;  that  is,  if  there  is  anything  fresh 
since  you  wrote." 

Hilda  told  her  the  doctor's  opinion  and  the  plans  that 
had  been  formed. 

"  Dr.  Pearson  brought  a  Dr.  Leeds  here  with  him  this 
morning.  He  says  he  is  very  clever.  His  term  as  house- 
surgeon  at  Guy's  or  St.  Bartholomew's,  I  forget  which, 
has  just  expired,  and  as  he  had  not  made  any  definite 
plans  he  was  glad  to  accept  the  doctor's  offer  to  take 
charge  of  my  uncle.  He  seemed,  from  what  little  I  saw 
of  him,  a  pleasant  man,  and  spoke  in  a  cheerful  voice, 
which  will  be  a  great  thing  for  uncle.  I  should  think 
that  he  is  six  or  seven  and  twenty.  Dr.  Pearson  said  he 
was  likel3r  to  become  a  very  distinguished  man  in  his  pro- 
fession some  day.  He  is  going  to  begin  at  once.  He  will 
not  sleep  here,  but  will  spend  most  of  his  time  here,  partly 
because  he  wants  to  study  the  case,  and  partly  because 
he  wants  uncle  to  get  accustomed  to  him.  He  will  travel 
down  with  us,  which  will  be  a  great  comfort  to  me,  for 
there  is  no  saying  how  uncle  may  stand  the  journey.  I 
suggested  that  we  should  have  another  carriage,  as  the 
invalid  carriage  has  room  for  only  one  inside  besides  the 
patient,  but  he  laughed,  and  said  that  he  would  ride  on 
the  box  with  Tom  Roberts;  there  will  be  room  for  two 
there,  as  we  are  going  to  post  down.  Of  course,  you  and 
your  aunt  will  go  down  by  train,  and  be  there  to  meet  us; 
it  will  make  it  so  much  brighter  and  more  cheerful  hav- 
ing you  to  receive  us  than  if  we  had  to  arrive  all  alone, 
with  no  one  to  say  welcome." 


98  THE  LOST  HEIR 

"  And  is  your  uncle  so  very  weak?  " 

"  Terribly  weak — weak  both  mentally  and  physically/' 
and  she  gave  an  account  of  the  interview  that  afternoon. 

"  That  is  bad  indeed,  Hilda;  worse  than  I  had  expected. 
But  with  country  air,  and  you  and  me  to  amuse  him,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  doctor,  we  may  hope  that  he  will  soon 
be  a  very  different  man." 

"  Well,  I  will  not  stay  talking  here  any  longer,  Netta; 
we  have  left  your  aunt  half  an  hour  alone,  and  if  she  were 
not  the  kindest  soul  in  the  world,  she  would  feel  hurt  at 
being  so  neglected,  after  coming  all  this  way  for  my  sake. 
You  don't  know  what  good  your  coming  has  effected. 
Before  you  opened  the  door  I  was  in  the  depth  of  despair; 
everything  seemed  shaken,  everything  looked  hopeless. 
There  seemed  to  have  been  a  sort  of  moral  earthquake 
that  had  turned  everything  in  my  life  topsy-turvy,  but 
now  I  feel  hopeful  again.  With  you  by  my  side  I  think 
that  I  can  bear  even  the  worst." 

They  went  down  to  the  drawing  room,  where  they 
found  Mrs.  Brown,  the  housekeeper,  having  a  long  gos- 
sip over  what  had  taken  place  with  Miss  Purcell,  whom, 
although  a  stranger,  she  was  unaffectedly  glad  to  see,  as  it 
seemed  to  take  some  of  her  responsibilities  off  her  shoul- 
ders, and  she  knew  that  ISTetta's  society  would  be  invalu- 
able to  Hilda. 

It  was  not  until  a  week  later  that,  after  another  con- 
sultation, the  doctors  agreed  that  it  was  as  well  that  the 
General  should  be  moved  down  to  his  country  place.  Dr. 
Pearson  was  opinion  that  there  was  some  improvement, 
but  that  it  was  very  slight;  the  others  could  see  no  change 
since  they  had  seen  him  ten  days  before.  However,  they 
agreed  with  their  colleague  that  although  there  might  be 
a  certain  amount  of  danger  in  moving  him  to  the  country, 
it  was  best  to  risk  that,  as  the  change  might  possibly  bene- 
fit him  materially. 

"  Have  you  formed  any  opinion  of  the  case,  Dr. 
Leeds?  "  Sir  Henry  asked. 

"  I  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  any  distinct  opinion, 
Sir  Henry.     The  symptoms  do  not  tally  with  those  one 


GENERAL  MATIIIESON'S  SEIZURE.  99 

would  expect  to  find  after  any  ordinary  sort  of  seizure, 
although  certainly  they  would  point  to  paralysis  rather 
than  epilepsy.  I  should,  had  the  case  come  before  me  in 
the  ordinary  way  in  the  ward  of  a  hospital,  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  seizure  itself  and  the  after-effects 
pointed  rather  to  the  administration  of  some  drug  than  to 
any  other  cause.  I  admit  that  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
any  drug  whose  administration  would  lead  to  any  such 
results;  but  then  I  know  of  no  other  manner  in  which  they 
could  be  brought  about  save  by  some  lesion  of  a  blood 
vessel  in  the  brain  of  so  unusual  a  character  that  no  such 
case  has  hitherto  been  reported  in  any  work  with  which  I 
am  acquainted.  This,  I  say,  would  be  my  first  theory  in 
the  case  of  a  patient  of  whose  previous  history  I  was  en- 
tirely unaware,  and  who  came  under  my  charge  in  a  hos- 
pital ward;  but  I  admit  that  in  the  present  case  it  cannot 
te  entertained  for  a  moment,  and  I  must,  during  my  at- 
tendance upon  General  Mathieson,  watch  closely  for 
symptoms  that  would  aid  me  in  localizing  brain  lesion  or 
other  cause." 

He  spoke  modestly  and  quietly  in  the  presence,  as  he 
was,  of  some  of  the  leading  men  of  his  profession.  The 
theory  he  had  enunciated  had  not  occurred  to  any  of  them, 
but,  as  he  spoke,  they  all  recognized  that,  the  symptoms 
might  under  other  circumstances  have  led  them  to  a  simi- 
lar conclusion.  They  were  silent  for  a  minute  when  he 
ceased  speaking,  then  Sir  Henry  said  gravely: 

"  I  admit,  Dr.  Leeds,  that  some  of  the  symptoms,  in- 
deed the  fit  itself,  might  in  the  case  of  a  patient  of  whose 
history  we  were  ignorant  seem  to  point  to  some  obscure 
form  of  poisoning,  since  they  do  not  accord  with  what 
one  would  expect  in  ordinary  forms  of  brain  seizures  of 
this  kind.  However,  there  is  no  doubt  that  we  are  all 
somewhat  prone,  when  we  meet  with  a  case  possessing  un- 
usual or  altogether  exceptional  features,  to  fall  back  upon 
the  theory  of  poisoning.  In  this  case,  fortunately,  the 
circumstances  are  such  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of 
entertaining  the  idea  for  a  moment;  and,  as  you  say,  you 
must  endeavor  to  find,  watching  him  as  you  will  do,  some 


100  TEE  LOST  EEIR. 

other  cause  of  what  I  admit  is  a  mysterious  and  obscure 
case;  and  knowing  you  as  I  do,  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
mention  this  theory,  even  as  a  theory,  to  no  one. 

"We  are  all  aware  that  there  are  many  cases  which 
come  before  us  where  we  may  entertain  suspicions,  and 
strong  suspicions,  that  the  patient  has  been  poisoned,  and 
yet  we  dare  not  take  any  steps  because,  in  the  first  place, 
we  have  no  clew  as  to  how  or  by  whom  he  or  she  has  been 
poisoned,  and  because,  if  after  death  an  autopsy  should 
prove  that  we  were  mistaken,  it  would  be  nothing  short 
of  professional  ruin.  Here,  as  you  said,  the  theory  is 
happily  irreconcilable  with  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
and  no  drug  known  to  European  science  would  produce  so 
strange  a  seizure  or  the  after-effects.  Of  course,  as  we  all 
know,  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  and  it  is  believed  in 
India,  the  natives  are  acquainted  with  poisons  which  are 
wholly  unknown,  and  will  probably  remain  unknown, 
since  medical  men  who  have  endeavored  to  investigate 
the  matter  have  almost  always  fallen  victims  themselves 
to  poisons  administered  by  the  people  whose  secrets  they 
were  endeavoring  to  discover. 

"However,  we  can  happily  put  that  altogether  aside. 
Dr.  Pearson  tells  us  that  he  intends  to  go  down  once  a 
fortnight,  and  has  promised  to  furnish  us  with  the  results 
of  his  own  observations,  and  his  own  reports  of  this  very 
interesting  case.  If  General  Mathieson  had,  in  the  course 
of  his  military  career,  ever  been  struck  in  the  head  by  a 
bullet,  I  should  say  unhesitatingly  that  some  splinter,  pos- 
sibly very  minute,  had  obtruded  into  the  brain  matter; 
but  this  has,  I  learn,  not  been  the  case.  The  only  serious 
injury  that  he  has  ever  received  was  when  he  was  terribly 
torn  and  nearly  killed  by  a  tiger  some  twenty  years  ago  in 
India.  It  may  be  useful  to  you,  Dr.  Leeds,  to  keep  this  in 
your  mind.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  scratches  and 
bites,  even  of  the  domestic  cat,  occasionally  give  rise  to 
violent  inflammations,  and  probably,  indeed  I  believe  it  to 
be  the  ease,  those  of  the  great  cats  of  India  are  still  more 
poisonous.  As  is  the  case  with  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog,  the 
poison  may  in  some  cases  remain  latent  for  a  considerable 


GENERAL  MATEIESON'S  SEIZURE.  101 

time,  until  some  circumstance  may  arouse  it  into  activity. 
I  would  suggest  that  should  any  scars  caused  at  that  time 
remain,  you  should  examine  them  carefully,  and  ascertain 
whether  there  is  any  sign  of  inflammatory  action  there. 
I  grant  the  improbability  of  any  consequences  arising  so 
many  years  after  the  event,  but  at  the  same  time  in  a  case 
of  this  kind,  where  we  are  perfectly  at  a  loss  to  explain 
what  we  see,  it  is  as  well  to  look  for  the  cause  in  every 
direction,  however  improbable  it  may  appear." 

"  Thank  }tou,  Sir  Henry;  I  will  certainly  do  so.  I  was 
not  aware  before  of  the  General  having  suffered  such  an 
injury,  and  I  will  go  this  afternoon  and  spend  a  few  hours 
in  looking  through  the  medical  works  at  the  library  of  the 
India  Office  to  see  if  there  are  any  records  of  serious  dis- 
turbance caused  in  the  system  by  wounds  inflicted  by 
tigers  a  considerable  time  after  they  have  apparently 
healed." 

The  meeting  then  broke  up,  and  two  days  later  Gen- 
eral Mathieson  was  taken  down  to  his  seat  in  Warwick- 
shire. Post  horses  were  in  readiness  all  along  the  road, 
and  the  journey  was  accomplished  quickly  and  without 
fatigue  to  the  patient,  who  slept  the  greater  part  of  the 
distance.  At  each  change  Dr.  Leeds  got  down  and  had 
two  or  three  minutes'  talk  with  Hilda,  and  when  the  Gen- 
eral was  awake  gave  him  a  spoonful  of  restorative  medi- 
cine. His  presence  close  at  hand  was  a  great  comfort  to 
Hilda,  upon  whom  the  strain  of  watching  her  uncle  was 
very  great,  and  she  was  thankful  indeed  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  the  journey,  and  found  Netta  and  her 
aunt,  who  had  gone  down  by  that  morning's  train  together 
with  the  housekeeper  and  her  own  maid,  waiting  on  the 
:steps  to  receive  them. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

A     STRANGE     ILLNESS. 

Foe  three  months  General  Mathieson  remained  in  the 
country.  His  improvement  was  very  gradual — so  gradual, 
indeed^  that  from  week  to  week  it  was  scarce  noticeable, 
and  it  was  only  by  looking  back  that  it  was  perceptible. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  he  could  walk  unaided,  there  was 
less  hesitation  in  his  speech,  and  his  memory  was  dis- 
tinctly clearer.  He  passed  much  of  his  time  on  a  sofa 
placed  in  the  shade  in  the  garden,  with  Hilda  and  Netta 
sitting  by  him,  working  and  talking. 

Netta  had  always  been  a  favorite  of  his  from  the  time 
that  he  first  met  her  in  Hanover;  and  he  had,  when  she 
was  staying  with  his  niece  the  year  before,  offered  her  a 
very  handsome  salary  if  she  would  remain  with  her  as  her 
companion.  The  girl,  however,  was  reluctant  to  give  up 
her  occupation,  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  still  less 
would  she  leave  her  aunt;  and  although  the  General  would 
willingly  have  engaged  the  latter  also  as  an  inmate  of  the 
house,  to  act  as  a  sort  of  chaperon  to  Hilda  when  she 
drove  out  alone  shopping,  Netta  refused  in  both  their 
names. 

"  You  would  not  have  left  the  army,  General,  what- 
ever temptations  might  have  been  held  out  to  you.  I  am 
happy  in  thinking  that  I  am  doing  good  and  useful  work, 
and  I  don't  think  that  any  offer,  even  one  so  kind  and 
liberal  as  yours,  would  induce  me  to  relinquish  it." 

Her  presence  now  was  not  only  an  inestimable  comfort 
to  Hilda,  but  of  great  advantage  to  the  General  himself. 
Alone  Hilda  would  have  found  it  next  to  impossible  to 
keep  the  invalid  interested  and  amused.  He  liked  to  talk 
and  be  talked  to,  but  it  was  like  the  work  of  entertaining 
£..  child.  Netta,  however,  had  an  inexhaustible  furd  of 
102 


A  STRANGE  ILLNESS.  103 

good  spirits.  After  her  long  intercourse  with  children 
who  needed  entertainment  with  instruction,  and  whose 
attention  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  keep  fixed,  she 
had  no  difficulty  in  keeping  the  conversation  going,  and 
her  anecdotes,  connected  with  her  life  in  Germany  and 
the  children  she  had  taught,  were  just  suited  to  the  Gen- 
eral's mental  condition. 

Little  Walter  was  of  great  assistance  to  her.  He  had 
come  down  with  his  nurse  as  soon  as  they  were  fairly 
settled  at  Holmwood,  and  his  prattle  and  play  were  a 
great  amusement  to  his  grandfather.  Whenever  the  con- 
versation flagged  Netta  offered  to  tell  him  a  story,  which 
not  only  kept  him  quiet,  but  was  listened  to  with  as  much 
interest  by  the  General  as  by  the  child.  Dr.  Leeds  was 
often  a  member  of  the  party,  and  his  cheery  talk  always 
had  its  effect  in  soothing  the  General  when,  as  was  some- 
times the  case,  he  was  inclined  to  be  petulant  and  irritable. 

They  had  been  a  fortnight  at  Holmwood  before  the 
doctor  discovered  Netta's  infirmity.  She  happened  to  be 
standing  at  a  window  with  her  back  to  him  when  he  asked 
her  a  question.  Eeceiving  no  reply,  he  repeated  it  in  a 
louder  tone,  but  he  was  still  unanswered.  Somewhat  sur- 
prised, he  went  up  to  her  and  touched  her;  she  faced 
round  immediately. 

"  Were  you  speaking  to  me,  Dr.  Leeds?  " 

"  Yes,  I  spoke  to  you  twice,  Miss  Purcell,  but  you  did 
not  hear  me." 

"  I  have  been  perfectly  deaf  from  childhood."  she  said; 
"  I  cannot  hear  any  sound  whatever.  I  never  talk  about 
it;  people  ask  questions  and  wonder,  and  then,  forgetting 
fhat  I  do  not  hear,  they  persist  in  addressing  me  in  loud 
tones." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  deaf?  " 

"  It  is  a  melancholy  fact,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  and 
then  added  more  seriously,  "  It  came  on  after  measles. 
When  I  was  eight  years  old  my  good  aunt,  who  had  taken 
me  to  some  of  the  best  aurists  in  London,  happened  to 
hear  that  a  Professor  Menzel  had  opened  an  establishment 
in  Hanover  for  teaching  deaf  mutes  to  speak  by  a  new  sys- 


104  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

tern  of  watching  people's  lips.  She  took  me  uver  there, 
and,  as  you  see,  the  result  was  an  undoubted  success,  and 
I  now  earn  my  living  by  acting  as  one  of  the  professor's 
assistants,  and  by  teaching  two  or  three  little  girls  who 
board  at  my  aunt's." 

"  The  system  must  be  an  admirable  one  indeed,"  the 
doctor  said.  "  I  have,  of  course,  heard  of  it,  but  could 
not  have  believed  that  the  results  were  so  excellent.  It 
never  entered  my  mind  for  a  moment  that  you  were  in 
any  way  deficient  in  hearing,  still  less  that  you  were  per- 
fectly deaf.  I  have  noticed  that,  more  than  is  common, 
you  always  kept  your  eyes  fixed  on  my  face  when  I  was 
speaking  to  you." 

"  You  would  have  noticed  it  earlier  had  we  been  often 
ilone  together,"  she  said,  "  for  unless  I  had  kept  my  eyes 
always  upon  you  I  should  not  have  known  when  you  were 
speaking;  but  when,  as  here,  there  are  always  several  of 
us  together,  my  eyes  are  at  once  directed  to  your  face 
when  you  speak,  by  seeing  the  others  look  at  you." 

"  Is"  it  necessary  to  be  quite  close  to  you  when  one 
speaks?  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all!  Of  course  I  must  be  near  enough  to 
be  able  to  see  distinctly  the  motion  of  the  lips,  say  at 
twenty  yards.  It  is  a  great  amusement  to  me  as  I  walk 
about,  for  I  can  see  what  is  being  said  by  people  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road,  or  passing  by  in  a  vehicle.  Of 
coi  rse  one  only  gets  scraps  of  conversations,  but  some- 
times they  are  very  funny." 

"  You  must  be  quite  a  dangerous  person,  Miss  Purcell." 

"  I  am,"  she  laughed;  "  and  you  must  be  careful  not  to 
say  things  that  you  don't  want  to  be  overheard  when  you 
are  within  reach  of  my  eyes.  Yesterday,  for  instance, 
you  said  to  Hilda  that  my  aunt  seemed  a  wonderfully 
kind  and  intelligent  old  lady:  and  you  were  good  enough 
to  add  some  complimentary  remarks  about  myself." 

Dr.  Leeds  flushed. 

"  Well,  I  should  not  have  said  them  in  your  hearing, 
Miss  Purcell;  but.  as  they  were  complimentary,  no  harm 
was  done.     I  think  I  said  that  you  were  invaluable  here, 


A  STRANGE  ILLNESS.  1 05 

which  is  certainly  the  case,  for  I  really  do  not  know  how 
we  should  be  able  to  amuse  our  patient  if  it  were  not  for 
your  assistance." 

"  Hilda  and  I  had  a  laugh  about  it/'  Netta  said;  "  and 
she  said,  too,  that  it  was  not  fair  your  being  kept  in  the 
dark  as  to  our  accomplishment." 

"'Our  accomplishment!'  he  repeated  in  surprise. 
"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Miss  Covington  is  deaf  also? 
But  no,  that  is  impossible;  for  I  called  to  her  yesterday, 
when  her  back  was  turned,  and  the  General  wanted  her, 
and  she  answered  immediately." 

"  My  tongue  has  run  too  fast,"  the  girl  said,  "  but  I 
don't  suppose  she  would  mind  your  knowing  what  she 
never  speaks  of  herself.  She  was,  as  you  know,  living 
with  us  in  Hanover  for  more  than  four  years.  She  tem- 
porarily lost  her  hearing  after  an  attack  of  scarlet  fever, 
and  the  doctors  who.  were  consulted  here  feared  that  it 
might  be  permanent.  Her  father  and  mother,  hearing 
of  Dr.  Hartwig  as  having  the  reputation  of  being  the  first 
aurist  in  Europe,  took  her  out  to  him.  He  held  out  hopes 
that  she  could  be  cured,  and  recommended  that  she  should 
be  placed  in  Professor  Menzel's  institution  as  soon  as  she 
could  understand  German,  so  that,  in  case  a  cure  was  not 
effected,  she  might  be  able  to  hear  with  her  eyes.  By 
great  good  fortune  he  recommended  that  she  should  live 
with  my '  aunt,  partly  because  she  spoke  English,  and 
portly  because,  as  I  was  already  able  to  talk,  I  could  act 
as  her  companion  and  instructor  both  in  the  system  and 
in  German. 

"  In  three  years  she  could  get  on  as  well  as  I  could,  but 
the  need  for  it  happily  passed  away,  as  her  hearing  was 
gradually  restored.  Still,  she  continued  to  live  with  us 
while  her  education  went  on  at  the  best  school  in  the 
town,  but  of  course  she  always  talked  with  me  as  I  talked 
with  her,  and  so  she  kept  up  the  accomplishment  and  has 
done  so  ever  since.  But  her  mother  advised  her  very 
strongly  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  her  ability  to  read 
people's  words  from  their  lips  a  profound  secret,  as  it 
might  tend  to  her  disadvantage;  for  people  might  be 


10*  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

afraid  oi"  a  girl  possessed  of  the  faculty  of  overhearing 
their  conversation  at  a  distance." 

"  That  explains  what  rather  puzzled  me  the  other  day," 
the  doctor  said.  "  When  I  came  out  into  the  garden  you 
were  sitting  together  and  were  laughing  and  talking. 
You  did  not  notice  me,  and  it  struck  me  as  strange  that, 
while  I  heard  the  laughing,  I  did  not  hear  the  sound  of 
your  voices  until  I  was  within  a  few  paces  of  you.  When 
Miss  Covington  noticed  me  I  at  once  heard  your  voices." 

"  Yes,  you  gave  us  both  quite  a  start,  and  Hilda  said 
we  must  either  give  up  talking  silently  or  let  you  into  our 
secret;  so  I  don't  think  that  she  will  be  vexed  when  I  tell 
her  that  I  have  let  it  out." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  the  matter  explained,"  he  said,  "  for 
really  I  asked  myself  whether  I  must  not  have  been  tem- 
porarily deaf,  and  should  have  thought  it  was  so  had  I 
not  heard  the  laughing  as  distinctly  as  usual.  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  you  must,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
have  dropped  your  voices  to  a  whisper,  and  that  one  or 
the  other  was  telling  some  important  secret  that  you  did 
not  wish  even  the  winds  to  hear." 

"  J  think  that  this  is  the  only  secret  that  we  have," 
Netta  laughed. 

"  Seriously,  this  is  most  interesting  to  me  as  a  doctor, 
and  it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  a  system  that  acts  so  ad- 
mirably should  not  be  introduced  into  this  country.  You 
should  set  up  a  similar  institution  here,  Miss  Purcell." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  doing  so  some  day.  Hilda 
is  always  urging  me  to  it,  but  I  feel  that  I  am  too  young 
yet  to  take  the  head  of  an  establishment,  but  in  another 
four  or  five  years'  time  I  shall  think  seriously  abou/  it." 

"  I  can  introduce  you  to  all  the  aurists  in  London,  Miss 
Purcell,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  soon  get  as  many 
inmates  as  you  may  choose  to  take.  In  cases  where  their 
own  skill  fails  altogether,  they  would  be  delighted  to  com- 
fort parents  by  telling  them  how  their  children  may  learn 
to  dispense  altogether  with  the  sense  of  hearing." 

"  Not  quite  altogether,"  she  said.  "  It  has  happened 
very  often,  as  it  did  just  now,  that  I  have  been  addressed 


A   STBAXGE  ILLNESb.  *07 

by  someone  at  whom  I  did  not  happen  to  be  looking,  and 
then  I  have  to  explain  my  apparent  rudeness  by  owning 
myself  to  be  entirely  deaf.  Unfortunately,  I  have  not 
always  been  able  to  make  people  believe  it,  and  I  have 
several  times  been  soundly  rated  by  strangers  for  endeav- 
oring to  excuse  my  rudeness  by  a  palpable  falsehood." 

"  Eeally,  I  am  hardly  surprised,"  Dr.  Leeds  said,  "  for 
I  should  myself  have  found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  one 
altogether  deaf  could  have  been  taught  to  join  in  con- 
versation as  you  do.  Well,  I  must  be  very  careful  what  I 
say  in  future"  while  in  the  society  of  two  young  ladies  pos- 
sessed of  such  dangerous  and  exceptional  powers." 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  doctor;  I  feel  sure  that  there 
is  no  one  here  to  whom  you  would  venture  to  give  us  a 
bad  character." 

"  I  think,"  he  went  on  more  seriously,  "  that  Miss  Cov- 
ington's mother  was  very  wise  in  warning  her  against  her 
letting  anyone  know  that  she  could  read  conversations  at 
a  distance.  People  would  certainly  be  afraid  of  her,  for 
gossipmongers  woxild  be  convinced  that  she  was  overhear- 
ing, if  I  may  use  the  word,  what  was  said,  if  she  happened 
to  look  at  them  only  casually." 

At  the  end  of  three  months  the  General  became  rest- 
less, and  was  constantly  expressing  a  wish  to  be  brought 
back  to  London. 

"What  do  you  think  yourself,  Dr.  Leeds?"  Dr.  Pear- 
son said,  when  he  paid  one  of  his  usual  visits. 

"  He  is,  of  course,  a  great  deal  better  than  he  was  when 
he  first  came  down,"  the  former  replied,  "  but  there  is  still 
that  curious  hesitation  in  his  speech,  as  if  he  was  suffer- 
ing from  partial  paralysis.  I  am  not  surprised  at  his 
wanting  to  get  up  to  town  again.  As  he  improves  in 
health  he  naturally  feels  more  and  more  the  loss  of  bis 
usual  course  of  life.  I  should  certainly  have  advised  his 
remaining  here  until  he  had  made  a  good  deal  further^  ad- 
vancement, but  as  he  has  set  his  mind  upon  it,  I  believe 
that  more  harm  would  be  done  by  refusing  than  by  his 
going.     In  fact,  I  think  that  he  has,  if  anything,  gone 


101  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

"back  in  the  last  fortnight,  and  above  all  things  it  is  neces- 
sary to  avoid  any  course  that  might  cause  irritation,  and 
so  set  up  fresh  brain  disturbances." 

"  I  am  quite  of  your  opinion,  Leeds.  I  have  noticed 
myself  that  he  hesitates  more  than  he  did  a  short  time 
skre,  and  sometimes,  instead  of  joining  in  the  conversa- 
tion, he  sits  moody  and  silent;  and  he  is  beginning  to  re- 
sent being  looked  after  and  checked." 

"  Yes;  he  said  to  me  the  other  day  quite  angrily,  '  I 
don't  want  to  be  treated  as  a  child  or  a  helpless  invalid, 
doctor.  I  took  a  mile  walk  yesterday.  I  am  beginning 
to  feel  quite  myself  again;  it  will  do  me  a  world  of  good  to 
be  back  in  London,  and  to  drive  down  to  the  club  and  to 
have  a  chat  with  my  old  friends  again.' " 

"  Well,  I  think  it  best  that  he  should  not  be  thwarted. 
You  have  looked  at  the  scars  from  time  to  time,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Yes;  there  has  been  no  change  in  them,  they  are  very 
red,  but  he  tells  me — and  what  is  more  to  the  point,  his 
man  tells  me — that  they  have  always  been  so." 

"What  do  you  think,  Leeds?  Will  he  ever  be  himself 
again?  Watching  the  case  from  day  to  day  as  you  have 
done,  your  opinion  is  worth  a  good  deal  more  than  mine." 

"  I  bave  not  the  slightest  hope  of  it,"  the  young  doctor 
replied  quie'tly.  "  I  have  seen  as  complete  wrecks  as  he  is 
gradually  pull  themselves  round  again,  but  they  have 
been  cases  where  they  have  been  the  victims  of  drink 
or  of  some  malady  from  which  they  had  been  restored 
by  a  successful  operation.  In  his  case  we  have  failed 
altogether  to  determine  the  cause  of  his  attack,  or 
the  nature  of  it.  We  have  been  feeling  in  the  dark, 
and  hitherto  have  failed  to  discover  a  clew  that  we 
could  follow  up.  So  far  there  has  been  no  recurrence 
of  his  first  seizure,  but,  with  returning  strength  and  re- 
turning brain  work,  it  is  in  my  opinion  more  than  likely 
that  we  shall  have  another  recurrence  of  it.  The  shock 
has  been  a  tremendous  one  to  the  system.  Were  he  a 
younger  man  he  might  have  rallied  from  it,  but  I  doubt 
wheth*"-  at  his  age  he  will  ever  get  over  it.     Actually  he 


A  STBANGE  ILLNESS.  109 

is,  I  believe,  under  seventy;  physically  and  mentally,  he 
is  ninety." 

"  That  is  so,  and  between  ourselves  I  cannot  but  think 
that  a  long  continuance  of  his  life  is  not  to  be  desired.  I 
believe  with  you  that  he  will  be  a  confirmed  invalid,  re- 
quiring nursing  and  humoring  like  a  child,  and  for  the 
sake  of  Miss  Covington  and  all  around  him  one  cannot 
wish  that  his  life  should  be  prolonged." 

"  I  trust  that,  when  the  end  comes,  Dr.  Pearson,  it  will 
be  gradual  and  painless,  and  that  there  will  be  no  recur- 
rence of  that  dreadful  seizure." 

"  I  hope  so  indeed.  I  have  seen  many  men  in  bad  fits, 
but  I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  that.  I  can  assure 
you  that  several  of  the  men  who  were  present — men  who 
had  gone  through  a  dozen  battles — were  completely  pros- 
trated by  it.  At  least  half  a  dozen  of  them,  men  whom  I 
had  never  attended  before,  knowing  that  I  had  been 
present,  called  upon  me  within  the  next  two  or  three  days 
for  advice,  and  were  so  evidently  completely  unstrung 
that  I  ordered  them  an  entire  change  of  scene  at  once,  and 
recommended  them  to  go  to  Homburg,  take  the  waters, 
and  play  at  the  tables;  to  do  anything,  in  fact,  that  would 
distract  their  minds  from  dwelling  upon  the  painful  scene 
that  they  had  witnessed.  Had  it  not  been  for  that,  one 
would  have  had  no  hesitation  in  assigning  his  illness  to 
some  obscure  form  of  paralysis;  as  it  is,  it  is  unaccounta- 
ble. Except,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  by  your  theory  of 
poison." 

The  younger  doctor  did  not  smile  in  return.  "  It  is 
the  only  cause  that  I  can  assign  for  it,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  The  more  I  study  the  case,  the  more  I  investigate  the 
writings  of  medical  men  in  India  and  on  the  East  and 
West  Coast  of  Africa,  the  more  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
attack  was  the  work  of  a  drug  altogether  unknown  to  Eu- 
ropean science,  but  known  to  Obi  women,  fetich  men,  and 
others  of  that  class  in  Africa.  In  some  of  the  accounts 
of  people  accused  of  crime  by  fetich  men,  and  given  liquor 
to  drink,  which  they  are  told  will  not  affect  them  if  inno- 
cent, but  will  kill  them  if  guilty,  I  find  reports  of  their 


110  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

being  seized  .vith  instant  and  violent  conviuoions  similar 
to  those  that  you  witnessed.  These  convulsions  often 
end  in  death;  sometimes,  where,  I  suppose,  the  dose  was 
larger  than  usual,  the  man  drops  dead  in  his  tracks  while 
drinking  it.  Sometimes  he  dies  in  convulsions;  at  other 
times  he  recovers  partially  and  lingers  on,  a  mere  wreck, 
for  some  months.  In  other  cases,  where,  I  suppose,  the 
dose  was  a  light  one,  and  the  man's  relatives  were  ready 
to  pay  the  fetich  man  handsomely,  the  recovery  was 
speedy  and  complete;  that  is  to  say,  if,  as  is  usually  the 
^,ase,  the  man  was  not  put  to  death  at  once  upon  the  sup- 
posed proof  of  his  guilt.  By  what  possible  means  such 
poison  could  have  found  its  way  to  England,  for  there  is 
no  instance  of  its  nature  being  divulged  to  Europeans,  I 
know  not,  nor  how  it  could  have  been  administered;  but  I 
own  that  it  is  still  the  only  theory  by  which  I  can  account 
for  the  General's  state.  I  need  not  say  that  I  should 
never  think  of  giving  the  slightest  hint  to  anyone  but 
yourself  as  to  my  opinion  in  the  matter,  and  trust  most 
sincerely  that  I  am  mistaken;  but  although  I  have  tried 
my  utmost  I  cannot  overcome  the  conviction  that  the 
theory  is  a  correct  one,  and  I  think,  Dr.  Pearson,  that  if 
you  were  to  look  into  the  accounts  of  the  various  ways  in 
which  the  poisons  are  sold  by  old  negro  women  to  those 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  enemies  or  persons  whose  existence 
is  inconvenient  to  them,  and  by  the  fetich  men  in  these 
ordeals,  you  will  admit  at  least  that  had  you  beerl  prac- 
ticing on  the  West  Coast,  and  any  white  man  there  had 
such  an  attack  as  that  through  which  the  General  has 
pasted,  you  would  without  hesitation  have  put  it  down  to 
poison  by  some  negro  who  had  a  grudge  against  him." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  the  other  doctor  admitted; 
"but,  you  see,  we  are  not  on  the  West  Coast.  These 
poisons  are,  as  you  admit,  absolutely  unobtainable  by 
white  men  from  the  men  and  women  who  prepare  them. 
If  obtainable,  when  would  they  have  been  brought  here, 
and  by  whom?  And  lastly,  by  whom  administered,  and 
from  what  motive?  I  admit  all  that  you  say  about  the 
African  poisons.     I  lately  had  a  long  talk  about  them  with 


A  STRANG E  ILLNESS.  211 

a  medical  man  who  had  been  on  the  coast  for  four  01  five 
years,  but  until  these  other  questions  can  be  answered  I 
must  refuse  to  believe  that  this  similarity  is  more  than 
accidental,  and  in  any  possible  way  due  to  the  same  cause." 

"  That  is  what  I  have  told  myself  scores  of  times,  and  it 
would  be  a  relief  to  me  indeed  could  I  find  some  other 
explanation  of  the  matter.  Then,  you  think  that  he  had 
better  come  up  to  London?" 

"  I  leave  the  matter  in  your  hands,  Dr.  Leeds.  I  would 
give  him  a  few  days  longer  and  try  the  effect  of  a  slight 
sedative;  possibly  his  desire  to  get  up  to  town  may  die 
out.  If  so,  he  is  without  doubt  better  here.  If,  however, 
you  see  that  his  irritation  increases,  and  he  becomes  more 
and  more  set  upon  it,  by  all  means  take  him  up.  How 
would  you  do  so  ?    By  rail  or  road  ?  " 

"  Certainly  by  rail.  I  have  been  trying  to  make  him 
feel  that  he  is  a  free  agent,  and  encouraged  him  in  the  be- 
lief that  he  is  stronger  and  better.  If  then  I  say  to  him, 
'  My  dear  General,  you  are,  of  course,  free  to  do  as  you 
like,  and  it  may  be  that  the  change  will  be  beneficial  to 
you;  if  the  ladies  can  be  ready  to-morrow,  let  us  start  with- 
out further  delay,'  I  consider  it  quite  possible  that  this 
ready  and  cheerful  acquiescence  may  result  in  his  no 
longer  desiring  it.  One  knows  that  in  this  respect  sick 
people  are  very  like  fractious  children.  They  set  their 
minds  on  some  special  article  of  food,  as  a  child  does  on  a 
toy,  and  when  it  comes  they  will  refuse  to  touch  it,  as  the 
child  will  throw  the  coveted  toy  down." 

It  turned  out  so  in  this  case.  The  moment  the  C4en- 
eral  found  that  the  doctor  was  willing  that  he  should  go 
up  to  town,  and  the  ladies  quite  ready  to  accompany  him 
at  once,  he  himself  began  to  raise  objections. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  that  we  should  wait  an- 
other month,"  he  replied.  A  little  pretended  opposition 
strengthened  this  view,  and  the  return  was  postponed. 
Ai  the  end  of  the  month  he  had  made  so  much  progress 
that,  when  the  longing  for  London  was  again  expressed, 
.eeds  offered  no  opposition,  and  two  days  later  the 
whole  party  went  up. 


CHAPTER   X. 

TWO    HEAVY    BLOWS. 

During  the  four  months  that  General  Mathieson  had 
remained  at  Holmwood  no  one  had  been  more  constant  in 
his  inquiries  as  to  his  health  than  Mr.  Simcoe.  He  had 
seen  Hilda  before  she  started,  and  had  begged  her  to  let 
him  have  a  line  once  a  week,  saying  how  her  uncle  was 
going  on. 

"  I  will  get  Dr.  Leeds  to  write,"  she  said.  "  My  own 
opinion  will  be  worth  nothing,  but  his  will  be  valuable. 
I  am  afraid  that  he  will  find  time  hang  heavily  on  his 
hands,  and  he  will  not  mind  writing.  I  do  not  like  writ- 
ing letters  at  the  best  of  times,  but  in  the  trouble  we  are 
in  now  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  not  be  equal  to  it." 

Dr.  Leeds  willingly  undertook  the  duty  of  sending  a 
short  weekly  bulletin,  not  only  to  Mr.  Simcoe,  but  to  a 
dozen  other  intimate  friends. 

"  It  is  not  half  an  hour's  work,"  he  said,  when  Netta 
offered  to  relieve  him  by  addressing  the  envelopes  or  copy- 
ing out  his  report;  "  very  few  words  will  be  sufficient. 

*  The  General  has  made  some  slight  progress  this  week,' 
or  '  The  General  remains  in  very  much  the  same  state,'  or 

*  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  record  some  slight  improvement.' 
That,  with  my  signature,  will  be  quite  sufficient,  and  when 
I  said  that  half  an  hour  would  be  enough  I  exaggerated: 
I  fancy  that  it  will  be  all  done  in  five  minutes." 

Mr.  Simcoe  occasionally  wrote  a  few  lines  of  thanks, 
but  scarcely  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  send  some  little 
present  for  the  invalid — a  bunch  of  the  finest  grapes,  a 
few  choice  peaches,  and  other  fruit  from  abroad.  Of 
flowers  they  had  plenty  in  their  own  conservatories  at 
Holmwood,  while  game  was  abundant,  for  both  from 
neighbors  and  from  club  friends  they  received  so  large  a 
lis 


TWO  HEAVY  BLOWS.  113 

quantity  that  a  considerable  proportion  was  sent  back  in 
hampers  to  the  London  hospitals. 

Some  of  Mr.  Simcoe's  presents  were  of  a  different  de- 
scription. Among  them  was  a  machine  that  would  hold 
a  book  at  any  angle  desired,  while  at  the  same  time  there 
was  a  shelf  upon  which  a  cup  or  tumbler,  a  spare  book  or 
newspaper,  could  be  placed. 

"  At  any  rate,  Hilda,  this  Mr.  Simcoe  of  yours  is  very 
thoughtful  and  kind  towards  your  uncle,"  Netta  said. 

"  Yes,"  Hilda  admitted  reluctantly,  "  he  certainly  is 
rery  thoughtful,  but  I  would  much  rather  he  did  not  send 
things.  We  can  get  anything  we  want  from  Warwick  or 
Leamington,  or  indeed  from  London,  merely  by  sending  a 
line  or  a  telegram.  One  hates  being  under  obligations  to 
a  man  one  does  not  like." 

"  It  seems  to  me  at  present  that  you  are  unjust,  Hilda; 
and  I  certainly  look  forward  to  seeing  him  in  London  and 
drawing  my  own  conclusions." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt  you  will  see  him,  and  often  enough 
too,"  Hilda  said  pettishly.  "  Of  course,  if  uncle  means 
to  go  to  his  club,  it  will  be  impossible  to  say  that  he  is  un- 
fit to  see  his  friends  at  home." 

Netta,  however,  did  not  see  Mr.  Simcoe  on  their  return, 
for  Dr.  Leeds,  on  the  suggestion  of  Hilda,  stated  in  his 
last  report  that  the  General  would  be  going  up  to  town  in 
a  day  or  two,  but  that  he  strongly  deprecated  any  visits 
until  he  could,  see  how  the  invalid  stood  the  journey. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  he  stood  it  badly.  Just  at 
first  the  excitement  seemed  to  inspire  him  with  strength, 
but  this  soon  died  away,  and  he  had  to  be  helped  from  the 
railway  carriage  to  the  brougham,  and  lifted  out  when  he 
arrived  at  home.  Dr.  Leeds  saw  to  his  being  carried  up- 
stairs, undressed,  and  put  to  bed. 

"  He  is  weaker  than  I  thought,"  he  said  in  reply  to 
Hilda's  anxious  look  when  he  joined  the  party  downstairs. 
"  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  want  of  physical  strength,  for  he 
has  walked  over  a  mile  several  times  without  apparent 
fatigue.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  rather  failure  of  will 
power,  or  brain  power,  if  you  like.     I  noticed  that  he  very 


114  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

frequently  sat  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  the  succession  of  objects  passing  rapidly  before 
the  eye  has  had  the  same  effect  of  inducing  giddiness  that 
waltzing  has  to  one  unaccustomed  to  it.  I  trust  that  to- 
morrow the  effect  will  have  passed  off.  I  had,  as  you 
know,  intended  to  sleep  at  a  friend's  chambers  to-night; 
but  1  should  not  think  of  doing  so  now,  but  will  sit  up 
with  him.  I  will  get  Eoberts  to  take  watch  and  watch 
with  me.  I  can  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  and  he  can  wake  me 
should  there  be  any  change.  I  sent  him  off  in  a  cab,  as 
soon  as  we  got  your  uncle  into  bed,  to  fetch  Dr.  Pearson; 
if  he  is  at  home,  he  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

It  was,  however,  half  an  hour  before  Dr.  Pearson  came, 
as  he  was  out  when  the  cab  arrived.  He  had  on  the  way 
learned  from  Tom  Eoberts  the  state  in  which  the  General 
had  arrived,  and  he  hurried  upstairs  at  once  to  his  room. 

"  So  he  has  broken  down  badly,  Leeds?  " 

"  Very  badly." 

"  I  did  not  expect  it.  When  I  saw  him  last  Sunday  he 
seemed  to  have  made  so  much  progress  that  I  thought 
there  could  be  no  harm  in  his  being  brought  up  to  Lon- 
don, though,  as  I  said  to  you,  I  thought  it  would  be  better 
to  dissuade  him  from  going  to  his  club.  He  might  see 
a  few  of  his  friends  and  have  a  quiet  chat  with  them  here. 
His  pulse  is  still  much  fuller  than  I  should  have  expected 
from  the  account  his  man  gave  of  him.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  irregularity,  but  that  has  been  the  case  ever  since 
the  attack." 

"  I  think  that  it  is  mental  rather  than  bodily  collapse," 
the  younger  man  said.  "  A  sudden  failure  of  brain  power. 
He  was  absolutely  unable  to  make  any  effort  to  walk,  or 
indeed  to  move  hisjimbs  at  all.  It  was  a  sort  of  mental 
paralysis." 

"  And  to  some  slight  extent  bodily  also,"  Dr.  Pearson 
said,  leaning  over  the  bed  and  examining  the  patient 
closely.  "  Do  you  see  there  is  a  slight,  but  distinct,  con- 
tortion of  the  face,  just  as  there  was  after  that  fit?  " 

"  I  see  there  is.  He  has  not  spoken  since  we  lifted  him 
from  fcne  railway  carriage,  and  I  am  afraid  that  to-morrow 


TWO  HEAVY  BLOWS.  115 

we  shall  find  that  he  has  lost,  partially  or  entirel}1-,  the 
power  of  speech.  I  fear  that  this  is  the  beginning  of  the 
end." 

Dr.  Pearson  nodded. 

"  There  can  be  little  doubt  of  it,  nor  could  we  wish  it 
to  be  otherwise.  Still,  he  may  linger  for  weeks  or  even 
months." 

Hilda  read  the  doctor's  opinion  in  his  face  when  he 
went  downstairs. 

"  Oh,  doctor,  don't  say  he  is  going  to  die!  "  she  cried. 

"  I  do  not  say  that  he  is  going  to  die  at  once,  my  dear. 
He  may  live  for  some  time  yet,  but  it  is  of  no  use  conceal- 
ing from  you  that-  neither  Dr.  Leeds  nor  myself  have  the 
slightest  hope  of  his  ultimate  recovery.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  paralysis  is  creeping  over  him,  and  that  it 
is  most  unlikely  that  he  will  ever  leave  his  bed  again. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is  hard,  dear,"  he  said  soothingly,  as 
she  burst  into  tears,  "  but  much  as  you  will  regret  his  loss 
you  cannot  but  feel  that  it  is  beofc  so.  He  could  never 
have  been  himself  again,  never  have  enjoyed  his  life. 
There  would  have  been  an  ever-present  anxiety  and  a 
dread  of  a  recurrence  of  that  fit.  You  will  see  in  time 
that  it  is  better  for  him  and  for  you  that  it  should  be  as  it 
is,  although,  of  course,  you  can  hardly  see  that  just  at 
present.  And  now  I  must  leave  you  to  vour  kind  friends 
here." 

Miss  Purcell  knew  well  enough  that  just  at  present 
words  of  consolation  would  be  thrown  away,  and  that  it 
was  a  time  only  for  silent  sympathy,  and  her  gentle  words 
and  the  warm  pressure  of  Netta's  hand  did  more  to  re- 
store Hilda's  composure  than  any  repetition  of  the  doc- 
tor's well-meant  assurance  that  all  was  for  the  best 
could  do. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  write  a  line  in  your  name  to 
Colonel  Bulstrode?"  she  asked. 

"No,  no!"  Hilda  cried;  "it  would  look  as  if  we  had 
made  up  your  minds  that  uncle  was  going  to  die.  If  he 
were  conscious  it  would  be  different;  for  I  know  that 
Colonel  ^ulstrode  is  his  greatest  friend  and  is  named  one 


116  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

of  his  trustees,  and  uncle  might  want  to  talk  to  him.  Oh, 
how  one  wishes  at  a  time  like  this  that  one  had  a  brother, 
or  that  he  had  a  son  alive,  or  that  there  was  someone  who 
would  naturally  step  in  and  take  everything  into  his 
hands  f» 

"  There  are  his  lawyers,"  Miss  Purcell  suggested. 

"  Yes,  I  did  not  think  of  them.  Mr.  Pettigrew  is  the 
other  trustee,  and  is,  I  know,  joint  guardian  with  me  of 
Walter.  I  am  sorry  now  that  we  did  not  leave  the  dear 
little  fellow  down  at  Holmwood,  it  will  be  so  sad  and  dull 
for  him  here,  and  he  would  have  been  very  happy  in  the 
country.  But  perhaps  it  is  best  as  it  is;  if  my  uncle  re- 
covers consciousness  he  is  sure,  to  ask  for  him.  He  had 
come  to  be  very  fond  of  him,  and  Walter  has  been  so 
much  with  him  lately." 

"  Yes,  his  eyes  always  used  to  follow  the  child  about  in 
his  play,"  Miss  Purcell  said.  "  I  think  it  is  best  that  he 
should  be  here,  and  as  the  nursery  is  at  the  top  of  the 
house  he  will  not  be  in  anyone's  way." 

There  was  but  little  change  in  General  Mathieson's 
condition  next  morning,  although  a  slight  movement, 
when  Hilda  spoke  to  him,  showed  that  he  was  dimly  con- 
scious of  her  presence,  and  when  she  brought  the  child 
down  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  that  of  the  General,  and 
said  "  Good-morning,  grandfather,"  according  to  his  cus- 
tom, he  opened  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  there  was  a 
slight  movement  of  the  lips,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  speak. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Covington,"  Dr.  Leeds  said;  "  the 
experiment  was  worth  making,  and  it  proves  that  his 
state  of  unconsciousness  is  not  complete." 

Walter  always  took  his  dinner  with  the  others  when 
they  lunched. 

"Where  is  the  child?"  Hilda  asked  the  footman; 
"  have  you  sent  him  up  to  tell  nurse  that  lunch  is  ready?  " 

"  I  have  not  sent  up,  miss,  because  nurse  has  not  come 
back  with  him  from  his  walk." 

"  No  doubt  she  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,"  Hilda 
said.  "  She  is  very  punctual;  I  never  knew  her  late 
before/' 


TWO  HEAVY  BLOWS,  117 

Luncn  was  half  over  when  Tom  Roberta  came  in  with 
a  scared  expression  on  his  usually  somewhat  stolid  face. 

"  If  you  please,  miss,  nurse  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"  "What  is  the  matter,  Roberts? "  Hilda  exclaimed, 
starting  up.  "  Has  Walter  met  with  an  accident?  " 

"  Well,  no,  miss,  not  as  I  know  of,  but  nurse  has  come 
home,  and  she  is  just  like  a  wild  thing;  somehow  or  other 
Master  Walter  has  got  lost." 

Hilda,  followed  by  Xetta  and  Miss  Furcell,  ran  out  into 
the  hall.  The  nurse,  a  woman  of  two  or  three  and  thirty, 
the  daughter  of  one  of  the  General's  tenants,  and  who 
had  been  in  charge  of  the  child  since  he  arrived  a  baby 
from  India,  was  sitting  on  a  chair,  sobbing  bitterly.  Her 
bonnet  hung  down  at  the  back  of  her  head,  her  hair  was 
unloosed,  and  she  had  evidently  been  running  wildly  to 
and  fro.  Her  appearance  at  once  disarmed  Hilda,  who 
said  soothingly: 

"  How  has  it  happened,  nurse?  Stop  crying  and  tell  us. 
I  am  sure  that  it  could  not  have  been  your  fault,  for  you 
are  always  so  careful  with  him.  There  is  no  occasion  to 
be  so  terribly  upset.  Of  course  he  will  soon  be  found. 
The  first  policeman  who  sees  him  will  be  sure  to  take  him 
to  the  station.     Now  how  did  it  happen?" 

"  I  was  walking  along  Queen's  Boad,  miss,"  the  woman 
said  between  her  sobs,  "  and  Master  Walter  was  close  be- 
side me.  I  know  that  special,  because  we  had  just  passed 
a  crossing,  and  I  took  hold  of  his  hand  as  we  went  over — 
when  a  man — he  looked  like  a  respectable  working-man — 
came  up  to  me  and  said,  *  I  see  you  are  a  mother,  ma'am.' 
'Not  at  all,'  said  I;  'how  dare  you  say  such  a  thing?  I 
am  a  nurse;  I  am  in  charge  of  this  young  gentleman/ 
'  Well,'  said  he, '  I  can  see  that  you  have  a  kind  heart,  any- 
how; that  is  what  made  me  speak  to  you.  I  am  a  car- 
penter, I  am,  and  I  have  been  out  of  work  for  months,  and 
I  have  a  child  at  home  just  about  this  one's  age.  He  is 
starving,  and  I  haven't  a  bit  to  put  in  his  mouth.  The 
parish  buried  my  wife  three  weeks  ago,  and  I  am  well- 
nigh  mad.  Would  you  give  me  the  money  to  buy  him  a 
loaf  of  bread? '     The  man  was  in  such  distress,  miss,  that 


118  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

I  took  out  my  purse  and  gave  him  a  shilling,  and  thankful 
he  was;  he  was  all  but  crying,  and  could  not  say  enough 
to  thank  me.  Then  I  turned  to  take  hold  of  Walter's 
hand,  and  found  that  the  child  had  gone.  I  could  not 
have  been  more  than  two  or  three  minutes  talking; 
though  it  always  does  take  me  a  long  time  to  take  my 
purse  out  of  my  pocket,  still  I  know  that  it  could  not  have 
been  three  minutes  altogether. 

"  First  of  all,  I  went  back  to  the  crossing,  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  street,  but  he  wasn't  there;  then  I 
thought  that  perhaps  he  had  walked  on,  and  was  hiding 
for  fun  in  a  shop  doorway.  When  I  could  not  see  him  up 
or  down  I  got  regular  frighted,  and  ran  up  and  down  like 
a  mad  thing.  Once  I  came  back  as  far  as  the  house,  but 
there  were  no  signs  of  him,  and  I  knew  that  he  could  not 
have  got  as  far  as  this,  even  if  he  had  run  all  the  way. 
Then  I  thought  of  the  mews,  and  I  ran  hack  there.  Mas- 
ter Walter  was  very  fond  of  horses,  and  he  generally 
stopped  when  we  got  to  the  entrance  of  the  mews,  and 
stood  looking  for  a  minute  or  two  at  the  grooms  cleaning 
the  horses,  and  I  thought  that  he  might  have  gone  fa 
there.  There  were  two  or  three  men  about,  but  none  had 
seen  the  child.  Still  I  ran  on,  and  looked  into  several 
stables,  a-calling  for  him  all  the  time.  When  he  wasn  t 
there,  I  went  well-nigh  stark  mad,  and  I  ran  up  and  down 
the  afreets  asking  everyone  I  met  had  they  seen  a  child. 
Tl;en  I  came  back  here  to  tell  you." 

-  Te  shall  soon  hear  of  him,  nurse.  Eoberts,  do  you 
and  William  start  out  at  once.  Go  first  to  the  police 
station  and  give  notice  that  the  child  is  missing— he  can- 
not have  wandered  far— and  then  do  you  and  James  go 
aU  round  the  neighborhood  and  tell  every  policeman  that 
you  meet  what  has  happened.  You  can  ask  in  all  the 
shops  in  Queen's  Eoad  and  the  streets  near;  he  may  have 
wandered  into  one  of  them,  and  as  he  was  alone,  they  may 
have  kept  him  until  someone  came  to  inquire  after  him. 
Now,  Netta,  will  you  put  on  your  bonnet  and  come  out 
with  me?" 

"  Shall  I  come  with  you  too,  Hilda? 


TWO  HEAVY  BLOWS.  119 

"  No,  thank  you,  Miss  Purcell.  In  the  first  place  we 
shall  walk  too  fast  for  you,  and  in  the  second  it  would  be 
as  well  for  you  to  be  here  to  comfort  him  if  he  is  brought 
back  while  we  are  out.  We  will  come  every  half-hour  to 
hear  if  there  is  news  of  him.  You  had  better  go  upstairs 
and  make  yourself  tidy,  nurse,  and  then  you  can  come 
out  and  join  in  the  hunt.  But  you  look  so  utterly  worn 
out  and  exhausted  that  I  think  perhaps  you  had  better  sit 
quiet  for  a  time;  you  may  be  sure  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  some  of  us  bring  him  back. 

"  I  could  not  sit  still,  Miss  Covington,"  the  woman  said. 
"I  will  just  run  upstairs  and  put  myself  straight,  and 
then  go  out  again." 

"  Try  and  calm  yourself,  nurse,  or  you  will  be  taken  for 
a  madwoman;  you  certainly  looked  like  one  when  you 
came  in." 

Two  minutes  later  Hilda  and  her  friend  started. 

"  Let  us  go  first  into  Kensington  Gardens,  Netta;  he 
often  went  there  to  play,  and  if  he  came  down  into  the 
main  road,  he  would  very  likely  wander  in.  It  is  probable 
that  nurse  ma.y  have  been  longer  speaking  to  that  man 
than  she  thinks,  and  that  he  had  time  to  get  a  good  way 
before  she  missed  him." 

The  gardens  were  thoroughly  searched,  and  the  park- 
keepers  questioned,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  "Walter. 
Then  they  called  at  the  house  to  see  whether  there  was 
any  news  of  him.  Finding  that  there  was  not,  they  again; 
went  out.  They  had  no  real  hopes  of  finding  him  now, 
for  Hilda  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  in  any  of  the 
streets  near.  Had  he  been,  either  the  nurse  or  the  men 
would  have  found  him. 

"  He  has,  no  doubt,  been  either  taken  by  some  kind- , 
hearted  person  who  has  found  him  lost,"  she  said,  "and 
who  has  either  given  notice  to  the  police,  or  he  has  been 
taken  by  them  to  the  police  station.  Still,  it  relieves  one 
to  walk  about;  it  would  be  impossible  to  sit  quiet,  doing 
nothing.  The  others  will  have  searched  all  the  streets 
near,  and  we  had  better  go  up  the  Edgware  Road,  search  in 
that  direction,  and  give  notice  to  any  policemen  we  find.'' 


120  THE  LOST  EEIL. 

But  the  afternoon  went  on  and  no  news  was  received  of 
the  missing  child.  It  was  a  relief  to  them  when  Dr. 
Leeds,  who  had  gone  off  watch  for  a  few  hours  at  twelve 
o'clock,  returned.  He  looked  grave  for  a  moment  when 
he  heard  the  news,  but  said  cheerfully,  "  It  is  very  annoy- 
ing, Miss  Covington,  but  you  need  not  alarm  yourself; 
Walter  is  bound  to  turn  up." 

"  But  he  ought  to  have  been  sent  to  the  police  station 
long  before  this,"  Hilda  said  tearfully. 

"  Of  course  he  ought,  if  all  people  possessed  common- 
sense;  unfortunately,  they  don't.  I  expect  that  at  the 
present  moment  he  is  eating  bread  and  jam,  or  something 
of  that  sort  in  the  house  of  some  kind-hearted  old  lady 
who  has  taken  him  in,  and  the  idea  of  informing  the  police 
has  never  occurred  to  her  for  a  moment,  and,  unfortu- 
nately, may  not  occur  for  some  little  time.  However,  if 
you  will  give  me  the  details  of  his  dress,  I  will  go  at  once 
with  it  to  the  printer's  and  get  two  or  three  hundred 
notices  struck  off  and  sent  round,  to  be  placed  in  trades- 
men's windows  and  stuck  up  on  walls,  saying  that  who- 
ever will  bring  the  child  here  will  be  handsomely  re- 
warded.    This  is  sure  to  fetch  him  before  long." 

There  was  but  little  sleep  that  night  at  General  Mathie- 
son's.  The  master  of  the  house  still  lay  unconscious,  and 
from  time  to  time  Dr.  Leeds  came  down  to  say  a  few 
cheering  words  to  the  anxious  girls.  Tom  Eoberts 
walked  the  streets  all  night  with  the  faint  idea  of  finding 
the  child  asleep  on  a  doorstep,  and  went  three  times  to 
the  police  station  to  ask  if  there  was  any  news.  The  first 
thing  in  the  morning  Hilda  went  with  Dr.  Leeds  to  Scot- 
land Yard,  and  the  description  of  the  child  was  at  once 
sent  to  every  station  in  London;  then  she  drove  by  her- 
self to  the  office  of  Messrs.  Farmer  &  Pettigrew,  and 
waited  there  until  the  latter  gentleman  arrived.  Mr. 
Pettigrew,  who  was  a  very  old  friend  of  the  family,  looked 
very  grave  over  the  news. 

"  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  Miss  Covington,"  he  said, 
when  she  had  finished  her  story,  "  that  the  affair  looks  to 
me  somewhat  serious;  and  I  am  afraid  that  you  will  have 


TWO  HEA  VF  BLO  Wx,.  lZ\ 

to  make  ^  your  mind  that  you  may  not  ste  che  Mtle  fel- 
low as  soon  as  you  expect.  Had  he  been  merely  lost,  you 
should  certainly  have  heard  of  him  in  a  few  hours  after 
the  various  and,  I  may  say,  judicious  steps  that  you  have 
taken.  A  child  who  loses  himself  in  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don is  morally  certain  to  come  into  the  hands  of  the  police 
in  a  very  few  hours." 

"  Then  what  can  have  become  of  him,  Mr.  Pettigrew?  " 
"  It  may  be  that,  as  not  unf requently  happens,  the 
child  has  been  stolen  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes.  In  that 
ease  he  will  probably  be  heard  of  before  very  long.  Or  it 
may  be  a  case  of  blackmail.  Someone,  possibly  an  ac- 
quaintance of  one  of  the  servants,  may  have  known  that 
the  child,  as  the  grandson  and  heir  of  General  Mathieson, 
would  be  a  valuable  prize,  and  that,  if  he  could  be  carried 
off,  his  friends  might  finally  be  forced  to  pay  a  considerable 
sum  to  recover  him.  I  must  say  that  it  looks  to  me  like 
a  planned  thing.  One  of  the  confederates  engages  the 
silly  woman,  his  nurse,  in  a  long  rambling  talk;  the  other 
picks  the  child  quietly  up  or  entices  him  away  to  the  next 
corner,  where  he  has  a  cab  in  waiting,  and  drives  off  with 
him  at  once.  However,  in  neither  case  need  you  fear 
that  the  child  will  come  to  serious  harm.  If  he  has  been 
stolen  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes  the  woman  will  very 
speedily  turn  him  adrift,  and  he  will  be  brought  home  to 
you  by  the  police  in  rags.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  has  been, 
taken  for  the  purpose  of  blackmail,  you  may  be  sure  that 
he  will  be  well  cared  for,  for  he  will,  in  the  eyes  of  those 
who  have  taken  him,  be  a  most  valuable  possession.  In 
that  case  you  may  not  hear  from  the  abductors  for  some 
little  time.  They  will  know  that,  as  the  search  continues 
and  no  news  is  obtained,  his  friends  will  grow  more  and 
more  anxious,  and  more  ready  to  pay  handsomely  for  his 
return.  Of  course  it  is  a  most  annoying  and  unfortunate 
business,  but  I  really  do  not  think  that  you  have  any  occa- 
sion to  feel  anxious  about  his  safety,  and  it  is  morally  cer- 
tain  that  in  timp  you  will  have  him  back,  safe  and  sound. 
Now  how  is  your  uncle?  I  hope  that  he  shows  signs  of 
rallyJTi"-0  ** 


122  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  there  was  no  sign  whatever  of  his 
doing  so  up  to  eight  o'clock  this  morning,  and,  indeed, 
Dr.  Pearson  told  me  that  he  has  but  little  hope  of  his 
doing  so.  He  thinks  that  there  has  been  a  slight  shock  of 
paralysis.  Dr.  Leeds  speaks  a  little  more  hopefully  than 
Dr.  Pearson,  but  that  is  his  way,  and  I  think  that  he  too 
considers  that  the  end  is  not  far  off." 

"  Your  friends,  Miss  Purcell  and  her  niece,  are  still 
with  you,  I  hope?" 

"  Yes;  they  will  not  leave  me  as  long  as  I  am  in  trouble. 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  them,  especially 
now  this  new  blow  has  fallen  upon  me." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  if  you  receive  any  communication  re- 
specting this  boy  send  it  straight  to  me.  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  are  aware  that  you  and  I  have  been  appointed 
his  guardians  ?  " 

"  Yes;  uncle  told  me  so  months  ago.  But  I  never 
thought  then  that  he  would  not  live  till  Walter  came  of 
age,  and  I  thought  that  it  was  a  mere  f  orm." 

"  Doubtless  it  seemed  so  at  the  time,"  Mr.  Pettigrew 
agreed;  "your  uncle's  was  apparently  an  excellent  life, 
and  he  was  as  likely  as  anyone  I  know  to  have  attained  a 
great  age." 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  advise  me  to  do  at  present?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever,  besides  what  you  have  done.  The 
police  all  over  London  will  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  lost 
child;  they  will  probably  assume  at  once  that  he  has  been 
stolen  for  his  clothes,  and  will  expect  to  see  the  child 
they  are  in  search  of  in  rags.  They  will  know,  too,  the 
quarter  in  which  he  is  most  likely  to  be  found.  If  it  is 
for  this  purpose  that  he  has  been  stolen  you  can  confi- 
dently expect  to  have  him  back  by  to-morrow  at  latest; 
the  woman  would  be  anxious  to  get  rid  of  him  without 
loss  of  time.  If  the  other  hypothesis  is  correct  you  may 
not  hear  for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks;  the  fellows  in 
that  case  will  be  content  to  bide  their  time." 

Hilda  drove  back  with  a  heavy  heart.  Netta  herself 
opened  the  door,  and  her  swollen  eyes  at  once  told  the 
tmth. 


TWO  HEAVY  BLOWS.  128 

"  Uncle  is  dead?  "  Hilda  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  dear;  he  passed  away  half  an  hour  ago,  a  few 
minutes  after  Dr.  Leeds  returned.  The  doctor  ran  down, 
himself  for  a  moment,  almost  directly  he  had  gone  up, 
and  said  that  the  General  was  sinking  fast,  and  that 
the  end  might  come  at  any  moment.  Ten  minutes  later 
he  came  down  and  told  us  that  all  was  over." 


CHAPTEK   XL 

A    STARTLING    WILL. 

Mr.  Pettigrew  at  once  took  the  management  of  affairs 
at  the  house  in  Hyde  Park  Gardens  info  his  hands,  as  one 
of  the  trustees,  as  joint  guardian  of  the  heir,  and  as  family 
solicitor.  Hilda  was  completely  prostrated  by  the  two 
blows  that  had  so  suddenly  fallen,  and  was  glad  indeed 
that  all  necessity  for  attending  to  business  was  taken  off 
her  hands. 

"  We  need  not  talk  about  the  future  at  present,"  Mr. 
Pettigrew  said  to  her;  "  that  is  a  matter  that  can  be  con- 
sidered afterwards.  You  are  most  fortunate  in  having 
the  lady  with  whom  you  so  long  lived  here  with  you,  and 
I  trust  that  some  permanent  arrangement  may  be  made. 
In  any  case  you  could  not,  of  course,  well  remain  here 
alone." 

"  I  have  not  thought  anything  about  it  yet,"  she  said 
wearily.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  man,  Mr.  Pettigrew;  then 
I  could  do  something  myself  towards  searching  for 
Walter,  instead  of  being  obliged  to  sit  here  uselessly." 

"  If  you  were  a  man,  Miss  Covington,  you  could  do 
nothing  more  at  present  than  is  being  done.  The  police 
are  keeping  up  a  most  vigilant  search.  I  have  offered  a 
reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  for  any  news  that  may 
lead  to  the  child's  discovery,  and  notices  have  even  been 
sent  to  the  constabularies  of  all  the  home  counties,  re- 
questing them  to  make  inquiries  if  any  tramp  or  tramps, 
accompanied  by  a  child  of  about  the  age  of  our  young 
ward,  have  been  seen  passing  along  the  roads.  But,  as  I 
told  you  when  you  called  upon  me,  I  have  little  doubt  but 
that  it  is  a  case  of  blackmail,  and  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  we  hear  ^f  him.     It  is  probable  that  the  General's 

124 


A  STARTLING    WILL.  125 

death  has  somewhat  disconcerted  them,  and  it  is  likely 
that  they  may  wait  to  see  how  matters  go  and  who  is  the 
person  with  whom  they  had  best  open  negotiations.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  they  are  in  some  way  or  other  keeping 
themselves  well  informed  of  what  is  taking  place  here." 

The  funeral  was  over,  the  General  being  followed  to 
the  gTave  by  a  number  of  his  military  friends  and  com- 
rades, and  the  blinds  at  the  house  in  Hyde  Park  Gardens 
were  drawn  up  again.  On  the  following  morning  Mr. 
Pettigrew  came  to  the  house  early.  He  was  a  man  who 
was  methodical  in  all  his  doings,  and  very  rarely  ruffled. 
As  soon  as  he  entered,  however,  Hilda  saw  that  something 
unusual  had  happened. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  Walter?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,  my  dear,  but  I  have  some  strange  and  unpleasant 
news  to  give  you.  Yesterday  afternoon  I  received  an  in- 
timation from  Messrs.  Halstead  &  James,  saying  that 
they  had  in  their  possession  the  will  of  the  late  General 
Mathieson  bearing  date  the  16th  of  May  of  the  present 
year.  I  need  not  say  that  I  was  almost  stupefied  at  the 
news.  The  firm  is  one  of  high  standing,  and  it  is  impos- 
sible to  suppose  that  any  mistake  has  arisen;  at  the  same 
time  it  seemed  incredible  that  the  General  should  thus 
have  gone  behind  our  backs,  especially  as  it  was  only 
three  months  before  that  we  had  at  his  request  drawn  out 
a  fresh  will  for  him.  Still,  I  am  bound  to  say  that  such 
cases  are  by  no  means  rare.  A  man  wants  to  make  a 
fresh  disposition  of  his  property,  in  a  direction  of  which 
he  feels  that  his  own  solicitors,"  especially  when  they  are 
old  family  solicitors,  will  not  approve,  and,  therefore,  he 
gets  it  done  by  some  other  firm,  with  the  result  that,  at 
his  death,  it  comes  like  a  bombshell  to  all  concerned.  I 
can  hardly  doubt-  that  it  is  so  in  this  case,  although  what 
dispositions  the  General  may  have  made  of  his  property, 
other  than  those  contained  in  the  last  will  we  drew  up,  I 
am  unable  to  say.  At  any  rate  one  of  the  firm  will  come 
round  to  our  office  at  twelve  o'clock  with  this  precious 
document,  and  I  think  that  it  is  right  that  you  should  be 


126  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

present  when  it  is  opened.  You  will  be  punctual,  will  you 
not?" 

"  You  can  rely  upon  my  being  there  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore twelve,  Mr.  Pettigrew.  It  all  seems  very  strange.  I 
knew  what  was  the  general  purport  of  my  uncle's  last  will, 
for  he  spoke  of  it  to  me.  It  was,  he  said,  the  same  as  the 
one  before  it,  with  the  exception  that  he  had  left  a  hand- 
some legacy  to  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life  from  a 
tiger.  I  was  not  surprised  at  this  at  all.  He  had  taken 
a  very  great  fancy  to  this  Mr.  Simcoe,  who  was  constantly 
here,  and  it  seemed  to  me  only  natural  that  he  should 
leave  some  of  his  money  to  a  man  who  had  done  him  so 
great  a  service,  and  who,  as  he  told  me,  had  nearly  lost 
his  own  life  in  doing  it." 

"  Quite  so,"  the  lawyer  agreed;  "  it  seemed  natural  to 
us  all.  His  property  was  large  enough  to  permit  of  his 
doing  so  without  making  any  material  difference  to  his 
grandchild,  who  will  come  into  a  fine  estate  with  large  ac- 
cumulations during  his  long  minority.  Now  I  must 
be  off." 

There  was  a  little  council  held  after  the  lawyer  had  left. 

"  They  say  troubles  never  comes  singly,"  Hilda  re- 
marked, "  and  certainly  the  adage  is  verified  in  my  case." 

"  But  we  must  hope  that  this  will  not  be  so,  my  dear," 
Miss  Purcell  said. 

"  It  cannot  be  any  personal  trouble,  aunt,"  for  Hilda 
had  fallen  back  into  her  old  habit  of  so  addressing  her, 
i  u  because  uncle  told  me  that,  as  I  was  so  well  off,  he  had 
only  put  me  down  for  a  small  sum  in  his  will,  just  to  show 
that  he  had  not  forgotten  me.  I  feel  sure  that  he  will 
have  made  no  change  in  that  respect,  and  that  whatever 
alteration  he  may  have  made  cannot  affect  me  in  the  least; 
except,  of  course,  he  may  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  would  be  better  to  appoint  two  men  as  guardians 
to  Walter,  but  I  hardly  think  that  he  would  have  done 
that.  However,  there  must  be  something  strange  about 
it,  or  he  would  not  have  gone  to  another  firm  of  solicitors. 
No,  I  feel  convinced  that  there  is  some  fresh  trouble  at 
hand" 


4  STARTLING   WILL.  127 

The  carriage  drew  up  at  the  office  in  Lincoln's  Inn  at 
five  minutes  to  twelve.  Mr.  Pettigrew  had  not  included 
Miss  Purcell  and  Netta  in  the  invitation,  but  Hilda  in- 
sisted upon  their  coming  with  her.  The}'  were  shown  at 
once  into  his  private  room,  where  some  extra  chairs  had 
been  placed.  Colonel  Bulstrode  was  already  there,  and 
Mr.  Farmer  joined  his  partner  as  soon  as  they  were 
seated. 

"  This  is  a  most  singular  affair,  Miss  Covington,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  need  hardly  say  that  it  is  a  matter  of  great 
annoyance  as  well  as  surprise  to  Pettigrew  and  myself. 
Of  course  General  Mathieson  was  perfectly  free  to  go  to 
any  other  firm  of  solicitors,  but  as  we  have  made  the  wills 
for  his  family  and  yours  for  the  last  hundred  years,  as 
well  as  conducted  all  their  legal  business,  it  is  an  unpleas- 
ant shock  to  find  that  he  has  gone  elsewhere,  and  I  must 
say  that  I  am  awaiting  the  reading  of  this  will  with  great 
curiosity,  as  its  contents  will  doubtless  furnish  us  with 
the  reason  why  he  had  it  thus  prepared." 

Just  at  the  stroke  of  twelve  Mr.  Halstead  and  Mr. 
James  were  announced. 

"  "We  thought  it  as  well,"  the  former  said,  "  for  us  both 
to  come,  Mr.  Farmer,  for  we  can  understand  your  surprise 
at  finding  that  a  later  will  than  that  which  is  doubtless  in 
your  possession  is  in  existence,  and  we  are.  ready  to  ex- 
plain the  whole  circumstances  under  which  it  was  drawn 
out  by  us.  General  Mathieson  came  one  day  to  our  office. 
He  brought  with  him  the  card  of  Colonel  Bulstrode;  but 
this  was  unnecessary,  for  some  months  ago  the  General 
was  at  our  office  with  the  Colonel.  He  was  only  there 
for  the  purpose  of  fixing  his  name  as  a  witness  to 
the  colonel's  signature,  as  our  client,  like  many  others, 
preferred  having  a  personal  friend  to  witness  his  signa- 
ture instead  of  this  being  done  by  one  of  our  clerks." 

"  That  was  so,"  the  Colonel  interjected. 

"  General  Mathieson,"  Mr.  Halstead  went  on,  "  was  only 
in  our  office  a  minute  or  two  on  that  occasion,  but  of 
course  that  was  sufficient  for  us  to  recognize  him  when 
he  called  again.     He  told  us  that  he  desired  us  to  draw 


128  TEE  LOST  EETR. 

out  a  will,  and  that  as  he  had  determined  to  appoint  Mr. 
PettigTew  one  of  his  trustees  and  guardian  to  his  heir, 
he  thought  it  as  well  to  employ  another  firm  to  draw  up 
the  will. 

"  We  Dointed  out  that  such  a  precaution  was  altogether 
needless" when  dealing  with  a  firm  like  yours,  and  he  then 
said,  '  I  have  another  reason.  I  am  making  a  change  in 
one  of  the  provisions  of  the  will,  and  I  fancy  that  Farmer 
&  Pettigrew  might  raise  an  argument  upon  it.  Here 
are  the  instructions.'  I  said,  '  You  will  permit  me  to 
read  them  through,  General,  before  giving  you  a  decided 
answer.'  Had  the  will  contained  any  provision  that  we 
considered  unjust  we  should  have  declined  to  have  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  matter;  but  as  it  in  no  way  di- 
verted the  property  from  the  natural  heir,  and  was,  as 
far  as  we  could  see,  a  just  and  reasonable  one,  we  saw  no 
cause  for  refusing  to  carry  out  his  instructions;  for  we 
have  Known,  as  doubtless  you  have  known,  many  similar 
instances,  in  which  men,  for  some  reason  or  other,  have 
chosen  to  go  outside  their  family  solicitors  in  matters 
which  they  desired  should  remain  entirely  a  secret  until 
after  their  death.  Had  General  Mathieson  come  to  us  as 
an  altogether  unknown  person  we  should  have  point-blank 
refuseoTto  have  had  anything  to  do  with  the  business;  but 
as  an  intimate  friend  of  our  client  Colonel  Bulstrode,  and 
as  being  known  to  us  to  some  extent  personally,  we  de- 
cided to  follow  the  instructions  given  us  in  writing.  I  will 
now.  with  your  permission,  read  the  will." 

"First  let  me  introduce  Miss  Covington  to  you,"  Mr. 
Farmer  said.  "  She  is  the  General's  nearest  relative,  with 
the  exception  of  his  grandson.  These  ladies  are  here 
with  her  as  her  friends." 

Mr.  Halstead  bowed,  then  broke  the  seals  on  a  large 
envelope,  drew  out  a  parchment,  and  proceeded  to  read  it. 
Messrs.  Farmer  &  Pettigrew  listened  with  increasing 
surprise  as  he  went  on.  The  legacies  were  absolutely 
identical  with  those  in  the  will  that  they  had  last  pre- 
pared. The  same  trustees  and  guardians  for  the  child 
weTe  appointed,  and  they  were  unable  to  understand  what 


A  STARTLING    WILL.  129 

t>aa  induced  General  Mathieson  to  have  what  was  almost 
a  duplicate  of  his  previous  will  prepared  so  secretly.  The 
last  paragraph,  however,  enlightened  them.  Instead  of 
Hilda  Covington,  John  Simcoe  was  named  as  heir  to  the 
bulk  of  the  property  in  the  event  of  the  decease  of  Walter 
Kivington,  his  grandson,  before  coming  of  age. 

Hilda  gave  an  involuntary  start  as  the  change  was  an- 
nounced, and  the  two  lawyers  looked  at  each  other  in  dis- 
may. Mr.  Halstead,  to  whom  the  General  had  explained 
his  reasons  for  gratitude  to  John  Simcoe,  saw  nothing 
unusual  in  the  provision,  which  indeed  Avas  heralded  with 
the  words,  "  asmy  only  near  relative,  Hilda  Covington,  is 
well  endowed,  i  hereby  appoint  my  dear  friend,  John  Sim- 
coe, my  sole  heir  in  the  event  of  the  decease  of  my  grand- 
sen,  Walter  Ivivington,  before  coming  of  age,  in  token  of 
my  appreciation  of  his  heroic  rescue  of  myself  from  the 
jaws  of  a  tiger,  in  the  course  of  which  rescue  he  was  most 
seriously  wounded." 

When  he  had  finished  he  laid  down  the  will  and  looked 
round. 

"  I  hope/'  he  said,  "  that  this  will  be  satisfactory  to  all 
parties." 

"  By  gad,  sir,"  Colonel  Bulstrode  said  hotly,  "  I  should 
call  this  last  part  as  unsatisfactory  as  possible." 

'"  The  vail  is  identical,"  Mr.  Tanner  said,  without 
heeding  the  Colonel's  interjection,  "  with  the  one  that 
Geaeral  Mathieson  last  executed.  The  persons  benefited 
and  the  amounts  left  to  them  are  in  every  case  the  same, 
but  you  will  understand  the  dismay  with  which  we  have 
heard  the  concluding  paragraph  when  I  tell  you  that 
General  Mathieson's  heir,  Walter  Kivington,  now  a  child 
of  six  or  seven  years  old,  disappeared — I  think  I  may  say 
was  kidnaped — on  the  day  preceding  General  Mathie- 
son's death,  and  that  all  efforts  to  discover  his  where- 
abouts have  so  far  been  unsuccessful." 

Mr.  Halstead  and  his  partner  looked  at  each  other  with 
dismay,  even  greater  than  that  exhibited  by  the  other 
lawyers. 

u  Gori  K\ess  me[ "  Mr.  Halstead  exclaimed.    "  This  is  a 


33(1  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

bad  business  indeed — and  a  very  strange  one.  Do  you 
think  that  this  Mr.  Simcoe  can  have  been  aware  of  this 
provision  in  his  favor?" 

"  It  is  likely  enough  that  he  was  aware  of  it/'  Mr.  Petti- 
grew  said;  "  he  was  constantly  in  the  company  of  General 
Mathieson,  and  the  latter,  who  was  one  of  the  frankest  of 
men,  may  very  well  have  informed  him;  but  whether  he 
actually  did  do  so  or  not  of  course  I  cannot  say.  Would 
you  have  any  objection  to  my  looking  at.  the  written  in- 
structions? " 

"  Certainly  not.  I  brought  them  with  me  in  order 
that  they  may  be  referred  to  as  to  any  question  that 
might  arise." 

"  It  is  certainly  in  the  General's  own  handwriting," 
Mr.  Pettigrew  said,  after  looking  at  the  paper.  "  But, 
indeed,  the  identity  of  the  legacies  given  to  some  twenty 
or  thirty  persons,  and  of  all  the  other  provisions  of  the 
will,  including  the  appointment  of  trustees  and  guard- 
ians, with  those  of  the  will  in  our  possession,  would 
seem  in  itself  to  set  the  matter  at  rest.  Were  you 
present  yourself  when  the  General  signed  it?" 

"  Certainly.  Both  Mr.  James  and  myself  were  present. 
I  can  now  only  express  my  deep  regret  that  we  acceded 
to  the  General's  request  to  draw  up  the  will." 

"It  is  unfortunate,  certainly,"  Mr.  Farmer  said.  "I 
do  not  see  that  under  the  circumstances  of  his  intro- 
duction by  an  old  client,  and  the  fact  that  you  had  seen 
him  before,  anyone  could  blame  you  for  undertaking  the 
matter.  Such  cases  are,  as  you  said,  by  no  means  un- 
usual, and  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  would  not  have 
undertaken  it,  had  you  considered  for  a  moment  that  any 
injustice  was  being  done  by  its  provisions." 

"  May  I  ask  to  whom  the  property  was  to  go  to  by  the 
first  will?  " 

"  It  was  to  go  to  Miss  Covington.  I  am  sure  that  I 
can  say,  in  her  name,  that  under  other  circumstances  she 
would  not  feel  in  any  way  aggrieved  at  the  loss  of  a 
property  she  can  well  dispense  with,  especially  as  the 
chances  of  that  provision  coming  into  effect  were  but 


A  STARTLING    WILL.  131 

small,  as  the  child  was  a  healthy  little  fellow,  and  in  all 
respects  likely  to  live  to  come  of  age." 

"  I  do  not  care  in  the  least  for  myself,"  Hilda  said 
impetuously.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  would  much  rather 
that  it  had  gone  to  someone  else.  I  should  not  have  at 
all  liked  the  thought  that  I  might  benefit  by  Walter's 
death,  but  I  would  rather  that  it  had  been  left  to  anyone 
but  this  man,  whom  I  have  always  disliked,  and  whom 
Walter  also  disliked.  I  cannot  give  any  reason  why.  I 
suppose  it  was  an  instinct,  and  now  the  instinct  is  justi- 
fied, for  I  feel  sure  that  he  is  at  the  bottom  of  Walter's 
disappearance." 

"  Hush!  hush!  my  dear  young  lady,"  Mr.  Farmer  said, 
holding  up  his  hand  in  dismay,  "  you  must  not  say  such 
things;  they  are  libelous  in  the  extreme.  Whatever 
suspicions  you  may  have — and  I  own  that  at  present 
things  look  awkward — you  must  not  mention  those  sus- 
picions until  you  obtain  some  evidence  in  their  support. 
The  disappearance  of  the  child  at  this  moment  may  be  a 
mere  coincidence— a  singular  one,  if  you  like — and  we 
shall,  of  course,  examine  the  matter  to  the  utmost  and 
sift  it  to  the  bottom,  but  nothing  must  be  said  until  we 
have  something  to  go  on." 

Hilda  sat  silent,  with  her  lips  pressed  tightly  together 
and  an  expression  of  determination  upon  her  face.  The 
other  solicitors  speedily  left,  after  more  expressions  of 
regret. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  next,  Mr.  Pettigrew?  "  Hilda 
asked  abruptly,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them. 

"  That  is  too  difficult  a  matter  to  decide  off-hand,  but 
after  going  into  the  whole  matter  with  my  co-trustee, 
Colonel  Bulstrode,  with  the  assistance  of  my  partner,  we 
shall  come  to  some  agreement  as  to  the  best  course  to 
take.  Of  course  we  could  oppose  the  probate  of  this 
new  will,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  we  have  a  leg 
to  stand  upon  in  that  respect.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
Halstead  &  James  will  retire  altogether  from  llv 
matter,  and  refuse  to  act  further.  In  that  case  it  will 
be  my  duty,  of  course,  to  acquaint  Simcoe  with  the  pro- 


132  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

visions  of  the  will,  and  to  inform  him  that  we,  as  trustees, 
shall  not  proceed  to  take  any  further  steps  in  the  matter 
until  the  fate  of  Walter  Eivington  is  ascertained,  but 
shall  until  then  administer  the  estate  in  his  behalf.  It 
will  then  be  for  him  to  take  the  next  step,  and  he  cer- 
tainly will  not  move  for  some  months.  After  a  time  he 
will,  of  course,  apply  to  the  court  to  have  it  declared  that 
Walter  Eivington,  having  disappeared  for  a  long  time, 
there  is  reasonable  presumption  of  his  death.  I  shall 
then,  in  your  name  and  mine,  as  the  child's  guardians, 
be  heard  in  opposition,  and  I  feel  sure  that  the  court 
will  refuse  to  grant  the  petition,  especially  under  the 
serious  and  most  suspicious  circumstances  of  the  case. 
In  time  Simcoe  will  repeat  the  application,  and  we  shall 
of  course  oppose  it.  In  fact,  I  think  it  likely  that  it  will 
be  a  good  many  years  before  the  court  will  take  the  step 
asked,  and  all  that  time  we  shall  be  quietly  making  in- 
quiries about  this  man  and  his  antecedents,  and  we  shall, 
of  course,  keep  up  a  search  for  the  child.  It  may  be  that 
his  disappearance  is  only  a  coincidence,  and  that  he  has, 
as  we  at  first  supposed,  been  stolen  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  heavy  claim  for  his  jeturn." 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  not  rest  until  I  find 
him,  Mr.  Pettigrew,"  Hilda  said.  "I  shall  devote  my 
life  to  it.  I  love  the  child  dearly;  but  even  were  he  a 
perfect  stranger  to  me  I  would  do  everything  in  my 
power,  if  only  to  prevent  this  man  from  obtaining  the 
proceeds  of  his  villainy/' 

Mr.  Farmer  again  interposed. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Covington/'  he  said,  "  you  really  must 
not  speak  like  this.  Of  course,  with  us  it  is  perfectly 
safe.  I  admit  that  you  have  good  reason  for  your  in- 
dignation, but  you  must  really  moderate  your  expres- 
sions, which  might  cause  infinite  mischief  were  you  to 
use  them  before  other  people.  In  the  eye  of  the  law  a 
man  is  innocent  until  he  is  proved  guilty,  and  we  have 
not  a  shadow  of  proof  that  this  man  has  anything  to 
do  with  the  child's  abduction.  Moreover,  it  might  do 
harm  in  other  ways.    To  begin  with,  it  might  render  the 


A  STARTLING    WILL.  133 

discovery  of  the  child  more  difficult;  for  it  his  abductors 
were  aware  or  even  suspected  that  you  were  searching  in 
all  directions  for  hint,  they  would  take  all  the  greater 
pains  to  conceal  his  hiding-place." 

"  I  will  be  careful,  Mr.  Farmer,  but  I  shall  proceed  to 
have  a  search  made  at  every  workhouse  and  night  refuge 
and  place  of  that  sort  in  London,  and  within  twenty 
miles  round,  and  issue  more  placards  of  your  offer  of  a 
reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  for  information.  There  is 
no  harm  in  that." 

"  Certainly  not.  Those  are  the  measures  that  one 
would  naturally  take  in  any  case.  Indeed,  I  should 
already  have  pushed  my  inquiries  in  that  direction,  but 
I  have  hitherto  felt  sure  that  had  he  been  merely  taken 
for  his  clothes,  the  police  would  have  traced  him  before 
now;  but  as  they  have  not  been  able  to  do  so,  that  it  was 
a  case  of  blackmail,  and  that  Ave  should  hear  very  shortly 
from  the  people  that  had  stolen  him.  I  sincerely  trust 
that  this  may  the  case,  and  that  it  will  turn  out  that  this 
man  Simcoe  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.  I  will 
come  down  and  let  you  know  what  steps  we  are  taking 
from  time  to  time,  and  learn  the  dire(  &ons  in  which  you 
are  pushing  your  inquiries." 

Neither  Miss  Purcell  nor  Netta  had  spoken  from  the 
time  they  had  entered  the  room,  but  as  soon  as  they  took 
their  places  in  the  carriage  waiting  for  them,  they  burst 
out. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  thing,  Hilda!  And  yet," 
Miss  Purcell  added,  "  the  search  for  Walter  may  do  good 
in  one  way;  it  will  prevent  you  from  turning  your 
thoughts  constantly  to  the  past  and  to  the  loss  that  you 
have  suffered." 

"  If  it  had  not  been  tor  Walter  being  missing,  aunt, 
I  should  have  thought  nothing  of  uncle's  appointing  Mr. 
Simcoe  as  heir  to  his  property  if  anything  should  happen 
to  him.  This  man  had  obtained  an  extraordinary  in- 
fluence over  him,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  from  uncle's 
statement  to  me  that  he  owed  his  life  solely  to  him,  and 
that  Simcoe  indeed  was  seriously  injured  in  saving  him. 


134  CHE  LOST  HEIR. 

He  knew  that  I  had  no  occasion  for  the  money,  and  have 
already  more  than  is  good  for  a  girl  to  have  at  her  abso- 
lute disposal;  therefore  I  am  in  no  way  surprised  that  he 
should  have  left  him  his  estate  in  the  event  of  Walter's 
death.  All  that  is  quite  right,  and  I  have  nothing  to  say 
against  it,  except  that  I  have  always  disliked  the  man. 
It  is  only  the  extraordinary  disappearance  of  Walter,  just 
at  this  moment,  that  seems  to  me  to  render  it  certain 
that  Simcoe  is  at  the  bottom  of  it.  No  one  else  could 
have  had  any  motive  for  stealing  Walter,  more  than  any 
other  rich  man's  child.  His  interest  in  his  disappearance 
is  immense.  I  have  no  doubt  uncle  had  told  him  what 
he  had  done,  and  the  man  must  have  seen  that  his  chance 
of  getting  the  estate  was  very  small  unless  the  child  could 
be  put  out  of  the  way." 

'•  You  don't  think,"  Netta  began,  "  that  any  harm  can 
have  happened  to  him?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  that.  Whether  this  man  would 
have  shrunk  from  it  if  there  were  no  other  way,  I  need 
not  ask  myself;  but  there  could  have  been  no  occasion 
for  it.  Walter  is  so  young  that  he  will  very  soon  forget 
the  past;  he  might  be  handed  over  to  a  gypsy  and  grow 
up  a  little  vagrant,  and  as  there  is  no  mark  on  him  by 
which  he  might  be  identified,  he  would  be  lost  to  us  for- 
ever. You  see  the  man  can  afford  to  wait.  He  has  doubt- 
less means  of  his  own — how  large  I  do  not  know,  but  I 
have  heard  my  uncle  say  that  he  had  handsome  chambers, 
and  certainly  he  lived  'in  good  style.  Now  he  will  have 
this  legacy  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  if  the  court 
keeps  him  waiting  ten  or  fifteen  years  before  pronounc- 
ing Walter  dead,  he  can  afford  to  wait.  Anyhow,  I  shall 
have  plenty  of  time  in  which  to  act,  and  it  will  require  a 
lot  of  thinking  over  before  I  decide  what  I  had  best  do." 

She  lost  no  time,  however,  in  beginning  to  work. 
Posters  offering  the  reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  for 
information  of  the  missing  boy  were  at  once  issued,  and 
stuck  up  not  only  in  London,  but  in  every  town  and 
village  within  thirty  miles.  Then  she  obtained  from 
Mr.  Pettigrew  the  name  of  a  firm  of  trustworthy  private 


A  STARTLING    WILL.  135 

detectives  and  set  them  to  make  inquiries,  in  the  first 
place  at  all  the  institutions  where  a  lost  child  would  be 
likely  to  be  taken  if  found,  or  where  it  might  have  been. 
left  by  a  tramp.  Two  days  after  the  reading  of  the  will 
she  received  the  following  letter  from  John  Simcoe: 

"  Deae  Miss  Covington:  I  have  learned  from  Messrs. 
Farmer  &  Pettigrew  the  liberal  and  I  may  say  ex- 
traordinary gem  rosity  shown  towards  myself  by  the  late 
General  Mathieson,  whose  loss  I  most  deeply  deplore. 
My  feelings  of  gratitude  are  at  the  present  moment  over- 
whelmed by  the  very  painful  position  in  which  I  find 
myself.  I  had,  of  course,  heard,  upon  calling  at  your 
door  to  make  inquiries,  that  little  Walter  was  missing, 
and  was  deeply  grieved  at  the  news,  though  not  at  the 
time  dreaming  that  it  could  affect  me  personally.  Now, 
however,  the  circumstances  of  the  case  are  completely 
changed,  for,  by  the  provisions  of  the  will,  I  should  ben- 
efit pecuniarily  by  the  poor  child's  death.  I  will  not  for 
a  moment  permit  myself  to  believe  that  he  is  not  alive 
and  well,  and  do  not  doubt  that  you  will  speedily  recover 
him;  but,  until  this  occurs,  I  feel  that  some  sort  of  sus- 
picion must  attach  to  me,  who  am  the  only  person  having 
an  interest  in  his  disappearance.  The  thought  that  this 
may  be  so  is  distressing  to  me  in  the  extreme.  Since  I 
heard  of  his  disappearance  I  have  spent  the  greater  part 
of  my  time  in  traversing  the  slums  of  London  in  hopes  of 
lighting  upon  him.  I  shall  now  undertake  wider  re- 
searches, and  shall  to-day  insert  advertisements  in  all 
the  daily  papers,  offering  one  thousand  pounds  for  his 
recovery.  I  feel  sure  that  you  at  least  will  not  for  a 
moment  entertain  unjust  suspicions  concerning  me,  but 
those  who  do  not  know  me  well  may  do  so,  and  although 
fft  present  none  of  the  facts  have  been  made  public,  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  already  under  a  cloud,  and  that  men  in 
the  club  look  askance  at  me,  and  unless  the  child  is 
found  my  position  will  speedily  become  intolerable.  My 
only  support  in  this  trial  is  my  consciousness  of  inno- 
cence.   You  will  excuse  me  for  intruding  upon  your  sor- 


136  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

row  at  the  present  moment,  but  I  felt  compelled  to  write 
as  I  have  done,  and  to  assure  you  that  I  will  use  every 
effort  in  my  power  to  discover  the  child,  not  only  for  his 
'own  sake  and  yours,  but  because  I  feel  that  until  he  is 
discovered  I  must  continue  to  rest  under  the  terrible,  if 
[unspoken,  suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  his  disap- 
pearance. 

u  Believe  me,  yours  very  truly, 

"John  Simcoe." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

DE.   LEEDS    SPEAKS. 

After  reading  John  Simcoe's  letter,  Hilda  threw  iti 
down  with  an  exclamation  of  contempt. 

"  Read  it !  "  she  said  to  Netta,  who  was  alone  with  her. 

"The  letter  is  good  enough  as  it  stands/'  Netta  re- 
marked, as  she  finished  it. 

"  Good  enough,,  if  coming  from  anyone  else,"  Hilda' 
said  scornfully,  "  perhaps  better  than  most  men  would 
write,  but  I  think  that  a  rogue  can  generally  express 
himself  better  than  an  honest  man." 

"  Now  you  are  getting  cynical — a  new  and  unpleasant 
phase  in  your  character,  Hilda.  I  have  heard  you  say 
that  you  do  not  like  this  man,  but  you  have  never  given 
me  any  particular  reason  for  it,  beyond,  in  one  of  your 
letters,  saying  that  it  was  an  instinct.  Now  do  try  to 
give  me  a  more  palpable  reason  than  that.  At  present 
it  seems  to  be  only  a  case  of  Dr.  Fell.  You  don't  like 
him  because  you  don't." 

"  I  don't  like  him  because  from  the  first  I  distrusted 
him.  Personally,  I  had  no  reason  to  complain;  on  the 
contrary,  he  has  been  extremely  civil,  and  indeed  willing. 
to  put  himself  out  in  any  way  to  do  me  small  services. 
Then,  as  I  told  you,  Walter  disliked  him,  too,  although 
he  was  always  bringing  chocolates  and  toys  for  him;  so 
that  the  child's  dislike  must  have  been  also  a  sort  of 
instinct.  He  felt,  as  I  did,  that  the  man  was  not  true 
and  honest.  He  always  gave  me  the  impression  of  acting. 
a  part,  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  how  a 
man  of  his  class  could  have  performed  so  noble  and 
heroic  an  act  as  rushing  in  almost  unarmed  to  save 
another,  who  was  almost  a  stranger  to  him.  -from  the  grip 

137 


138  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

of  a  tiger.  So  absolutely  did  I  feel  this  that  I  have  at 
times  even  doubted  whether  he  could  be  the  John  Simcoe 
who  had  performed  this  gallant  action." 

"My  dear  Hilda,  you  are  getting  fanciful!  Do  you 
think  that  your  uncle  was  likely  to  be  deceived  in  such  a 
matter,  and  that  he  would  not  have  a  vivid  remembrance 
of  his  preserver,  even  after  twenty  years?" 

"That  depends  on  how  much  he  saw  of  him.  My 
uncle  told  me  that  Mr.  Simcoe  brought  some  good  in- 
troductions from  a  friend  of  his  at  Calcutta  who  came 
out  in  the  same  ship  with  him.  No  doubt  he  dined  at 
my  uncle's  two  or  three  times — he  may  even  have  stayed 
a  few  days  in  the  house — possibly  more;  but  as  command- 
ing the  district  my  uncle  must  have  been  fully  occupied 
during  the  day,  and  can  have  seen  little  of  him  until,  I 
suppose,  a  week  or  so  after  his  arrival,  when  he  invited 
him  to  join  in  the  hunt  for  a  tiger.  Although  much  hurt 
on  that  occasion,  Simcoe  was  much  less  injured  than  my 
uncle,  who  lay  between  life  and  death  for  some  time,  and 
Simcoe  had  left  before  he  was  well  enough  to  see  him.  If 
he  had  dined  with  my  uncle  a  few  times  after  this  affair, 
undoubtedly  his  features  would  have  been  so  impressed  on 
him  that  he  would  have  recognized  him,  even  after  twenty 
years;  but,  as  it  was,  he  could  have  no  particular  interest 
in  this  gentleman,  and  can  have  entertained  but  a  hazy 
recollection  of  his  features.  In  fact,  the  General  did  not 
recognize  him  when,  he  first  called  upon  him,  until  he 
had  related  certain  details  of  the  affair.  It  had  always 
been  a  sore  point  with  my  uncle  that  he  had  never  had 
an  opportunity  of  thanking  his  preserver,  who  had,  as  he 
believed,  lost  his  life  at  sea  before  he  himself  was  off  his 
sick  bed,  and  when  he  heard  the  man's  story  he  was 
naturally  anxious  to  welcome  him  with  open  arms,  and  to 
do  all  in  his  power  for  him.  I  admit  that  this  man  must 
either  have  been  in  Benares  then,  or  shortly  afterwards, 
for  he  remembered  various  officers  who  were  there  and 
little  incidents  of  cantonment  life  that  could,  one  would 
think,  be  only  known  to  one  who  had  been  there  at  the 
time." 


DR.  LEEDS  SPEAKS.  139 

"±mt  you  say  he  was  only  there  a  weeK,  Hilda?  " 

"  Only  a  week  before  this  tiger  business;  but  it  was  a 
month  before  he  was  able  to  travel.  No  doubt  all  the 
officers  there  would  make  a  good  deal  of  a  man  who  had 
performed  such  a  deed,  and  would  go  and  sit  with  him 
and  chat  to  while  away  the  hours;  so  that  he  would,  in 
that  time,  pick  up  a  great  deal  of  the  gossip  of  the 
station." 

"Well,  then,  what  is  your  theory,  Hilda?  The  real 
man,  as  you  say,  no  doubt  made  a  great  many  acquaint- 
ances there;  this  man  seems  to  have  been  behind  the 
scenes  also." 

"  He  unquestionably  knew  many  of  the  officers,  for 
uncle  told  me  that  he  recognized  several  men  who  had 
been  out  there  when  he  met  them  at  the  club,  and  went 
up  and  addressed  them  by  name." 

"  Did  they  know  him  also  ?  " 

"  No;  at  first  none  of  them  had  any  idea  who  he  was. 
But  that  is  not  surprising,  for  they  had  seen  him  prin- 
cipally when  he  was  greatly  pulled  down;  and  believing 
him  to  be  drowned,  it  would  have  been  strange  indeed 
if  they  had  recalled  his  face  until  he  had  mentioned  who 
he  was." 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  arguing  against 
yourself,  Hilda.  Everything  you  say  points  to  the  fact 
that  this  man  is  the  John  Simcoe  he  claims  to  be.  If  he 
is  not  Simcoe,  who  can  he  be?  " 

"  Ah!    There  you  ask  a  question  that  I  cannot  answer." 

"  In  fact,  Hilda,  you  have  nothing  beyond  the  fact 
that  you  do  not  like  the  man,  and  believe  that  he  is 
not  the  sort  of  man  to  perform  an  heroic  and  self- 
sacrificing  action,  on  behalf  of  this  curious  theory  of 
yours." 

"  That  is  all  at  present,  but  I  mean  to  set  myself  to 
work  to  find  out  more  about  him.  If  I  can  find  out 
that  this  man  is  an  impostor  we  shall  recover  Walter; 
if  not,  I  doubt  whether  we  shall  ever  hear  of  him 
again." 

Netta  lifted  her  eyebrows. 


140  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  you  have  plenty  of  time  before 
you,  Hilda." 

The  next  morning  Dr.  Leeds,  who  had  not  called  for 
the  last  three  or  four  days,  came  in  to  say  that  he  was 
arranging  a  partnership  with  a  doctor  of  considerable 
eminence,  but  who  was  beginning  to  find  the  pressure 
of  work  too  much  for  him,  and  wanted  the  aid  of  a 
younger  and  more  active  man. 

"  It  is  a  chance  in  a  thousand,"  he  said.  "  I  owe  it 
largely  to  the  kind  manner  in  which  both  Sir  Henry 
Havercourt  and  Dr.  Pearson  spoke  to  him  as  to  my 
ability.  You  will  excuse  me,"  he  went  on,  after  Hilda 
had  warmly  congratulated  him,  "  for  talking  of  myself 
before  I  have  asked  any  questions,  but  I  know  that,  had 
you  obtained  any  news  of  Walter,  you  would  have  let  me 
know  at  once." 

"  Certainly  I  should;  but  I  have  some  news,  and  really 
important  news,  to  give  you."  And  she  related  the  pro- 
duction of  the  new  will  and  gave  him  the  details  of  its 
provisions. 

He  looked  very  serious. 

"  It  is  certainly  an  ugly  outlook,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
never  seen  this  Simcoe,  but  I  know  from  the  tone  in 
which  }'ou  have  spoken  of  him,  at  least  two  or  three 
times,  that  he  is  by  no  means  a  favorite  of  3rours.  Can 
you  tell  me  anything  about  him?" 

"  Not  beyond  the  fact  that  he  saved  the  General's  life 
from  a  tiger  a  great  many  years  ago.  Shortly  after  that 
he  was  supposed  to  be  lost  at  sea.  Certainly  the  vessel 
in  which  he  sailed  went  down  in  a  hurricane  with,  as 
was  reported,  all  hands.  He  says  that  he  was  picked  up 
clinging  to  a  spar.  Of  his  life  for  the  twenty  years  fol- 
lowing he  has  never  given  a  very  connected  account,  at 
least  as  far  as  I  know;  but  some  of  the  stories  that  I  have 
heard  him  tell  show  that  he  led  a  very  wild  sort  of  life. 
Sometimes  he  was  working  in  a  small  trader  among  the 
islands  of  the  Pacific,  and  I  believe  he  had  a  share  in 
some  of  these  enterprises.  Then  he  claims  to  have  been 
in  the  servi<*~  of  a  native  prince  somewhere  up  be}rond 


DR.   LEEDS  SPEAKS.  141 

Burmah,  and  according  to  his  account  took  quite  an 
active  part  in  many  sanguinary  wars  and  adventures  of 
all  sorts." 

The  doctor's  face  grew  more  and  more  serious  as  she 
proceeded. 

"  Do  I  gather,  Miss  Covington,  that  you  do  not  believe 
that  this  man  is  what  he  claims  to  be  ? " 

"  Frankly  that  is  my  opinion,  doctor.  I  own  that  I 
have  no  ground  whatever  for  my  disbelief,  except  that 
I  have  naturally  studied  the  man  closely.  I  have  watched 
his  lips  as  he  spoke.  When  he  has  been  talking  about 
these  adventures  with  savages  he  spoke  without  effort, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  'whatever  that  he  did  take  part  in 
such  adventures;  but  when  he  was  speaking  of  India,  and 
especially  when  at  some  of  the  bachelor  dinners  uncle 
gave  there  were  officers  who  had  known  him  out  there, 
it  was  clear  to  me  that  he  did  not  speak  with  the  same 
freedom.  He  weighed  his  words,  as  if  afraid  of  making 
a  mistake.  I  believe  that  the  man  was  playing  a  part.  His 
tone  was  genial  and  sometimes  a  little  boisterous,  as  it 
might  well  be  on  the  part  of  a  man  who  had  been  years 
away  from  civilization;  but  I  always  thought  from  his 
manner  that  all  this  was  false.  I  am  convinced  that  he 
is  a  double-faced  man.  '  When  he  spoke  I  observed  that 
he  watched  in  a  furtive  sort  of  way  the  person  to  whom 
he  was  speaking,  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words;  but,  above 
all,  I  formed  my  opinion  upon  the  fact  that  I  am  abso- 
lutely convinced  that  this  man  could  never  have  per- 
formed the  splendid  action  of  facing  a  wounded  tiger 
unarmed  for  the  sake  of  one  who  was,  in  fact,  but  a 
casual  acquaintance." 

"  You  will  excuse  me  if  I  make  no  comment  on  what 
you  have  told  me,  Miss  Covington.  It  is  a  matter  far 
too  serious  for  any  man  to  form  a  hasty  opinion  upon. 
I  myself  have  never  seen  this  man,  but  I  am  content 
to  take  your  estimate  of  his  character.  One  trained,  as 
you  were  for  years,  in  the  habit  of  closely  watching  faces 
cannot  but  be  a  far  better  judge  of  character  than  those 
who  have  not  had  such  training.  I  will  take  two  or  three 


142  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

days  to  think  the  matter  over;  and  now  will  you  tell 
me  what  steps  you  are  taking  at  present  to  discover 
Walter?" 

She  told  him  of  what  was  being  done. 
"Can  you  suggest  anything  else,  Dr.  Leeds?" 
"  Nothing.     It  seems  to  me  that  the  key  to  the  mys- 
tery is  m  the  hands  of  this  man,  and  that  it  is  there  it 
must  be  sought,  though  at  present  I  can  see  no  way  in 
|  which  the  matter  can  be  set  about.     When  one  enters 
into  a  struggle  with  a  man  like  this,  one  must  be  armed 
at  all  points,  prepared  to  meet   craft   with  craft,   and 
above  all  to  have  a  well-marked-out  plan  of  campaign. 
Now  I  will  say  good-morning.     I  suppose  Miss  Purcell 
and  her  niece  will  stay  on  with  you,  at  any  rate  for  a 
time?" 

"  For  a  long  time,  I  hope,"  she  said. 
"May  I  ask  if  you. have  stated  the  view  that  you  have 
given  me  to  Miss  Netta  Purcell?" 

"Yes,  I  have  told  her.  She  is  disposed  to  treat  it 
,  as  an  absurd  fancy  on  my  part,  but  if  I  can  get  anything 
to  go  upon  which  will  convince  her  that  there  is  even  a 
faint  possibility  of  my  being  right,  she  will  go  through 
fire  and  water  to  assist  me." 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  the  doctor  said.  "I  am 
sure  that  she  has  a  strong  character,  although  so  lively 
and  full  of  fun.  Of  course,  having  been  thrown  with 
her  for  four  months,  I  am  able  to  form  a  very  fair  opinion 
of  her  disposition." 

After  Dr.  Leeds  had  left,  Hilda  began  to  build  castles 
for  her  friend. 

"  It  would  be  a  splendid  thing  for  her,"  she  said.  "  He 
is  certainly  not  a  man  to  speak  in  the  way  he  did  unless 
he  thoroughly  meant  it.  I  should  think  that  they  were 
just  suited  to  each  other;  though  it  would  be  really  a 
pity  that  the  scheme  I  had  set  my  mind  upon  for  getting 
her  over  here  as  head  of  an  institution  for  teaching  deaf 
and  dumb  children  on  Professor  Menzel's  plan  should 
come  to  nothing.  Perhaps,  though,  he  might  be  willing 
that  she  should  act  as  the  head  of  such  an  establishment, 


DR.  LEEDS  SPEAKS.  143 

getting  trained  assistants  from  those  she  knows  in 
Hanover  and  giving  a  few  hours  a  day  herself  to  the  gen- 
eral supervision,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  the  good  that 
such  an  institution  would  do  among,  perhaps  the  most 
unfortunate  of  all  beings.  I  am  quite  sure  that,  so  far, 
she  has  no  thought  of  such  a  thing.  However,  perhaps  I 
am  running  on  too  fast,  and  that  he  only  means  what  he 
said,  that  he  admired  her  character.  I  suppose  there  is 
no  reason  that  because  a  man  admires  a  girl's  character 
he  should  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  yet  Netta  is  so  bright 
and  cheerful,  and  at  the  same  time  so  kind  and  thought- 
ful, I  can  hardly  imagine  that  any  man,  thrown  with  her 
as  he  has  been,  could  help  falling  in  love  with  her." 

Netta  was  surprised  when  Hilda  told  her  that  Dr.  Leeds 
had  been  inclined  to  view  her  theory  seriously. 

"  Really,  Hilda?  Certainly  he  is  not  the  sort  of  man 
to  be  carried  away  by  your  enthusiasm,  so  please  con- 
sider all  that  I  have  said  upon  the  subject  as  unspoken, 
and  I  will  stand  neutral  until  I  hear  further  what  he 
says." 

"  He  did  not  say  very  much,  I  admit,  Netta;  but  he  said 
that  he  would  take  the  matter  seriously  into  considera- 
tion and  let  me  know  what  he  thinks  in  two  or  three 
days." 

"I  am  afraid  that  he  wants  to  let  you  down  gently," 
Netta  said.  "Well,  well,  don't  looked  vexed!  I  will 
say  no  more  about  it  until  this  solemn  judgment  is 
delivered." 

Netta  was  in  the  room  when  Dr.  Leeds  called,  two 
days  later. 

"'Netta  is  in  all  my  counsels,  Dr.  Leeds,"  Hilda  said, 
"  and  she  is,  as  a  rule,  a  capital  hand  at  keeping  a  secret, 
though  she  did  let  mine  slip  out  to  you." 

There  w»as  no  smile  on  the  doctor's  face,  and  both 
girls  felt  at  once  that  the  interview  was  to  be  a  serious 
one. 

"  I  am  well  aware  that  I  can  speak  before  Miss  Pur- 
cell"  he  said,  "  although  there  are  very  few  people  be- 
fore whom  I  would  repeat  what  I  am  going  to  say.     I 


144  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

have  two  questions  to  ask  you,  Miss  Covington.  What  is 
the  date  of  this  last  will  of  your  uncle's?" 

"It  is  dated  the  16th  of  May." 

"  About  a  fortnight  before  the  General's  alarming 
seizure  ?  " 

Hilda  bowed  her  head  in  assent.  The  next  question 
took  her  quite  by  surprise. 

"  Do  you  know  whether  this  man  Simeoe  was  one  of 
the  party  when  the  seizure  took  place?" 

"  He  was,  doctor.  My  uncle  told  me  that  he  was  going 
to  dine  with  him,  and  Dr.  Pearson  mentioned  to  me  that 
he  was  next  to  the  General  and  caught  him  as  he  fell 
from  his  chair." 

Dr.  Leeds  got  up  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
two  or  three  minutes. 

"  I  think  that  now  things  have  come  to  the  present 
pass  you  ought  to  know  what  was  the  opinion  that  I 
originally  formed  of  General  Mathieson's  illness.  Dr. 
Pearson  and  Sir  Henry  Havercourt  both  differed  from 
me  and  treated  my  theory  as  a  fanciful  one,  and  without 
foundation;  and  of  course  I  yielded  to  such  superior 
authority,  and  henceforth  kept  my  ideas  to  myself. 
Nevertheless,  during  the  time  the  General  was  under 
my  charge  I  failed  altogether  to  find  any  theory  or  ex- 
planation for  his  strange  attack  and  subsequent  state, 
except  that  which  I  had  first  formed.  It  was  a  theory 
that  a  medical  man  is  always  most  reluctant  to  declare 
unless  he  is  in  a  position  to  prove  it,  or  at  least  to  give 
some  very  strong  reason  in  its  favor,  for  a  mistake  would 
not  only  cost  him  his  reputation,  but  might  involve  him 
in  litigation  and  ruin  his  career  altogether.  But  I  think 
that  I  ought  to  tell  you  what  my  opinion  is,  Miss  Cov- 
ington. You  must  not  take  it  for  more  than  it  is  worth, 
namely  as  a  theory;  but  it  may  possibly  set  you  on  a  new 
track  and  aid  you  in  your  endeavor  to  discover  the  miss- 
ing child." 

The  surprise  of  the  two  girls  increased  as  he  continued, 
after  a  pause: 

"  Ever  since  the  day  when  I  was  first  requested  to  act 


DR.   LEEDS  SPEAKS.  145 

as  tiie  General's  resident  medical  man  I  have  devoted  a 
considerable  time  to  the  study  of  books  in  which,  here 
and  there,  could  be  found  accounts  of  the  action  of  the 
herbs  in  use  among  the  Obi  women,  fetich  men,  and 
so-called  wizards  on  the  West  Coast  of  Africa,  also  in 
India,  and  among  the  savage  tribes  of  the  Malay 
Archipelago  and  the  Pacific  Islands.  What  drugs  they 
use  has  never  been  discovered,  although  many  efforts 
have  been  made  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  them,  both  in 
India  and  on  the  West  Coast;  but  doctors  have  found  it 
necessary  to  abandon  the  attempt,  several  of  them  hav- 
ing fallen  victims  of  the  jealousy  of  these  people  be- 
cause of  the  researches  they  were  making.  But  at  the 
least  the  effects  of  the  administration  of  these  drugs 
have  been  frequently  described,  and  in  some  respects 
these  correspond  so  closely  to  those  noticeable  in  the 
General's  case  that  I  say  now,  as  I  said  at  first,  I  believe 
the  General's  illness  was  caused  by  the  administration  of 
some  drug  absolutely  unknown  to  European  science." 

"  You  think  that  my  uncle  was  poisoned?  "  Hilda  ex- 
claimed in  a  tone  of  horror,  while  Netta  started  to  her 
feet  with  clenched  hands  and  flushed  face. 

"  I  have  not  used  the  word  '  poisoned/  Miss  Covington, 
though  in  fact  it  comes  to  that.  It  may  not  have  been 
administered  with  the  intention  of  killing;  it  may  have 
been  intended  only  to  bring  on  a  fit,  which,  in  due  time, 
might  have  been  attended  by  others;  but  the  dose  may 
have  been  stronger  than  its  administrator  intended." 

"And  you  think,  Dr.  Leeds — you  think  that  it  was 
administered  by " 

"  No,  Miss  Covington;  I  accuse  no  one.  I  have  no 
shadow  of  proof  against  anyone;  but  taking  this  illness, 
with  the  abduction  of  the  child,  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
one's  suspicions  must,  in  the  first  case,  fall  upon  the 
man  who  has  profited  by  the  crime,  if  crime  it  was.  On 
May  1G  this  will  was  drawn  up,  bequeathing  the  prop- 
erty to  a  certain  person.  The  circumstances  of  the  will 
were  curious,  but  from  what  I  learned  from  you  of  the 
explanation   given  by  the  lawyers   wbp  drew  it  up.  it 


146  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

seems  fair  and  above-board  enough.  The  General  was 
certainly  greatly  under  the  influence  of  this  man,  who 
had  rendered  him  the  greatest  service  one  man  can  ren- 
der another,  and  that  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life.  There- 
fore I  do  not  consider  that  this  will,  which  was,  so  to 
speak,  sprung  upon  you,  is  in  itself  an  important  link 
in  the  chain.  But  when  we  find  that  twelve  or  fourteen 
days  afterwards  the  General  was,  when  at  table,  seized 
with  a  terrible  fit  of  an  extraordinary  and  mysterious 
nature,  and  that  the  man  who  had  an  interest  in  his 
death  was  sitting  next  to  him,  the  coincidence  is  at  least 
a  strange  one.  When,  however,  the  General's  heir  is  ab- 
ducted, when  the  General  is  at  the  point  of  death,  the 
matter  for  the  first  time  assumes  a  position  of  the  most 
extreme  gravity. 

"At  first,  like  you,  I  thought  that  Walter  had  either 
been  stolen  by  some  woman  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes, 
or  that  he  had  been  carried  off  by  someone  aware  that 
he  was  the  General's  heir,  with  a  view  to  obtaining 
a  large  sum  of  money  as  his  ransom.  Such  things  have 
been  clone  before,  and  will,  no  doubt,  be  done  again. 
The  first  hypothesis  appears  to  have  failed  altogether; 
no  woman  who  had  robbed  a  child  of  his  clothes  would 
desire  to  detain  him  for  an  hour  longer  than  was 
necessary.  The  inquiries  of  the  police  have  failed  al- 
together; the  people  you  have  employed  have  ascer- 
tained that  neither  at  the  workhouses  of  London  nor  in 
the  adjacent  counties  has  any  child  at  all  answering  to 
Walter's  description  been  left  by  a  tramp  or  brought  in 
by  the  police  or  by  someone  who  had  found  him  wan- 
dering about.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  second  hy- 
pothesis is  also  proved  to  be  a  mistaken  one;  the  men 
who  took  him  away  would  be  obliged  to  exercise  the 
greatest  caution  when  opening  negotiations  for  his  re- 
lease, and  it  might  be  a  month  or  more  before  you  heard 
from  them. 

"  Therefore,  it  would  be  unfair  to  this  man  Simcoe 
to  assume  that  he  is  the  author  of  the  plot  until  so 
long  a  period  has  passed  that  it  is  morally  certain  that 


DR.   LEEDS  SPEAKS.  147 

the  boy  was  not  stolen  for  the  purpose  of  blackmail. 
However,  we  have  the  following  suspicious  circumstances:' 
first,  that,  as  I  believe,  the  General  was  drugged  by  some 
poison  of  whose  nature  we  are  ignorant  beyond  that  we 
read  of  very  similar  cases  occurring  among  natives  races 
in  Africa  and  elsewhere.  Then  we  have  the  point  that 
no  one  would  have  had  any  interest  in  the  General's 
death,  with  the  exception  of  the  man  he  had  named  as 
his  heir  in  the  event  of  the  child's  death.  We  know  by 
the  man's  statement  that  he  was  for  many  years  living 
among  tribes  where  poisons  of  this  kind  are  used  by  the 
wizards  and  fetich  men  to  support  their  authority  and  to 
remove  persons  against  whom  they  have  a  grudge. 
Lastly,  we  have  the  crowning  fact  of  the  abduction  of 
the  child,  who  stood  between  this  man  and  the  estates. 
All  this  is  at  best  mere  circumstantial  evidence.  We  do 
not  know  for  certain  what  caused  the  General's  fit,  we 
have  no  proof  that  Simcoe  had  any  hand  in  the  abduc- 
tion, and  whatever  our  opinion  may  be,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  we  do  not  breathe  a  hint  to  anyone." 

Hilda  did  not  speak;  the  shock  and  the  horror  of  the 
matter  were  too  much  for  her.  She  sat  with  open  lips 
and  blanched  face,  looking  at  Dr.  Leeds.  Netta,  how- 
ever, leaped  to  her  feet  again. 

"  It  must  be  so,  Dr.  Leeds.  It  does  not  seem  to  me 
that  there  can  be  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  the  matter,  and 
anything  that  I  can  do  to  bring  the  truth  to  light  I  will 
do,  however  long  a  time  it  takes  me." 

"  Thank  you,  Netta,"  Hilda  said,  holding  out  her  hand 
to  her  friend;  "  as  for  me,  I  will  devote  my  life  to  clear- 
ing up  this  mystery." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Miss  Covington,  that  my  engagements 
henceforth  will  prevent  my  joining  actively  in  your 
search,  but  my  advice  will  always  be  at  your  service,  and 
it  may  be  that  I  shall  be  able  to  point  out  methods  that 
have  not  occurred  to  you." 

"But,  oh,  Dr.  Leeds!"  Hilda  exclaimed  suddenly;  "if 
this  villain  poisoned  my  uncle,  surely  he  will  not  hesitate 
to  put  Walter  out  of  his  path." 


148  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  that/'  Dr.  Leeds  exc-iaimed, 
"but  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  very  un- 
likely that  he  will  do  so.  In  the  first  place,  he  must 
have  had  accomplices.  The  man  who  spoke  to  the  nurse 
and  the  cabman  who  drove  the  child  away  must  both 
have  been  employed  by  him,  and  I  have  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  the  child  has  been  placed  with  some  persons 
who  are  probably  altogether  ignorant  of  his  identity. 
Walter  was  a  lovable  child,  and  as  soon  as  he  got  over 
his  first  grief  he  would  no  doubt  become  attached  to  the 
people  he  was  with,  and  although  these  might  be  willing 
to  take  a  child  who,  they  were  told,  had  lost  its  parents, 
and  was  homeless  and  friendless,  without  inquiring  too 
closely  into  the  circumstances,  it  is  unlikely  in  the  ex- 
treme that  they  would  connive  at  any  acts  of  violence. 
It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  murder  and  then  to  dispose  of 
the  body  of  a  child  of  seven,  and  I  should  doubt  whether 
this  man  would  attempt  such  a  thing.  He  would  be  per- 
fectly content  that  the  boy  would  be  out  of  his  way,  that 
all  traces  of  him  should  be  lost,  and  that  it  would  be 
beyond  the  range  of  probability  that  he  could  ever  be 
identified,  and,  lastly,  even  the  most  hardened  villains 
do  not  like  putting  their  necks  in  a  noose.  Moreover, 
if  in  the  last  extremity  his  confederates,  believing  that 
he  had  made  away  with  the  child,  tried  to  blackmail 
him,  or  some  unforeseen  circumstance  brought  home  to 
him  the  guilt  of  this  abduction,  he  would  be  in  a  position 
to  produce  the  child,  and  even  to  make  good  terms  for 
himself  for  doing  so.  You  yourself,  whatever  your  feel- 
ings might  be  as  to  the  man  whom  you  believe  to  be  the 
murderer  of  your  uncle,  would  still  be  willing  to  pay  a 
considerable  sum  and  allow  him  to  leave  the  country,  on 
condition  of  his  restoring  "Walter.  Therefore  I  think 
that  you  may  make  your  mind  easy  on  that  score,  and 
believe  that  whatever  has  happened  to  him,  or  wherever 
he  may  be,  there  is  no  risk  of  actual  harm  befalling  him." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  doctor.  That  is  indeed  a  re- 
lief. And  now  have  you  thought  of  any  plan  upon  which 
we  had  best  set  to  work?" 


DR.   LEEDS  SPEAKS.  149 

-  Not  at  present,  beyond  the  fact  that  I  see  that  the 
power  you  both  possess  of  reading  what  men  say,  when, 
as  they  believe,  out  of  earshot,  ought  to  be  of  material 
advantage  to  you.  As  Miss  Purcell  has  promised  to  asso- 
ciate herself  with  you  in  the  search,  I  should  say  that 
she  would  be  of  more  use  in  this  direction  than  you 
would.  You  have  told  me  that  he  must  be  perfectly 
aware  of  your  dislike  for  him,  and  would  certainly  be 
most  careful,  were  you  in  his  presence,  although  he  might 
not  dream  of  this  power  that  you  possess.  But  he  *ias 
never  seen  your  friend.,  and  would  not  be  on  his  guard 
with  her.  I  have  at  present  not  thought  over  any  plan, 
by  which  she  could  watch  him — that  must  be  for  after 
consideration — but  it  seems  to  me  that  this  offers  some 
chance  of  obtaining  a  clew." 

"  I  am  ready  to  do  anything,  Dr.  Leeds/'  Netta  said 
firmly.  "You  only  have  to  find  out  a  way,  and  I  will 
follow  out  your  instructions  to  the  letter.  First  we 
must  find  out  whether  Hilda's  theory  about  this  man, 
which  I  scoffed  at  when  she  first  spoke  of  it  to  me,  is 
correct." 

u  You  mean  the  theory  that  this  man  is  not  John 
Simcoe  at  all,  but  someone  who,  knowing  the  facts  of 
the  rescue  from  the  tiger,  and  being  also  well  acquainted 
with  people  and  things  in  Benares,  has  personated  him? 
I  will  not  discuss  that  now.  I  have  an  appointment  to 
meet  a  colleague  for  consultation  in  a  difficult  case,  and 
have  already  run  the  time  very  close.  You  shall  see  me 
again  shortly,  when  I  have  had  time  to  think  the  whole 
matter  over  quietly." 


CHAPTEK   XIII 

NETTA    VISITS    STOWMAEKET. 

"  Well,  Netta,"  Hilda  said,  after  Dr.  Leeds  had  left 
them,  "I  suppose  you  will  not  in  future  laugh  at  my 
instincts.  I  only  wish  that  they  had  been  stronger.  I 
wish  I  had  told  my  dear  uncle  that  I  disliked  the  man  so 
thoroughly  that  I  was  sure  there  was  something  wrong 
with  him,  and  implored  him  not  to  become  very  intimate 
with  him.  If  I  had  told  him  how  strongly  I  felt  on  the 
subject,  although,  of  course,  he  could  have  left  or  given 
him  any  sum  that  he  chose,  I  do  think  it  would  have  had 
some  influence  with  him.  No  doubt  he  would  have 
laughed  at  what  he  would  have  called  my  suspicious 
nature,  but  I  think  he  would  not  have  become  so  friendly 
with  the  man;  but,  of  course,  I  never  thought  of  this. 
Oh,  Netta!  my  heart  seems  broken  at  the  thought  that 
my  dear  uncle,  the  kindest  of  men,  should  have  been 
murdered  by  a  man  towards  whom  his  thoughts  were  so 
kindly  that  he  appointed  him  his  heir  in  the  event  of 
Walter's  death.  If  he  had  left  him  double  the  sum  he 
did,  and  had  directed  that  in  case  of  Walter's  death  the 
property  should  go  to  hospitals,  the  child  might  now 
have  been  safe  in  the  house.  It  is  heartbreaking  to 
thnk  of.; 

"Well,  dear,"  Netta  said,  "we  have  our  work  before 
us.  I  say  'we'  because,  although  he  was  no  relation  to 
me,  I  loved  him  from  the  first,  when  he  came  over  with 
the  news  of  your  father's  death.  Had  I  been  his  niece 
as  well  as  you,  he  could  not  have  treated  me  more  kindly 
than  he  did  when  I  was  staying  with  you  last  year,  and 
during  the  last  four  months  that  I  have  been  with  you. 
One  could  see,  even  in  the  state  he  was  in,  how  kind  his 
nature   was,  and  his  very  helplessness  added   to   one's 

160 


NETTA    VISITS  STOWMAREET.  151 

affection  for  him.  I  quite  meant  what  I  said,  for  until 
this  matter  is  cleared  up,  and  until  this  crime,  if  crime 
it  really  is,  is  brought  to  light,  I  will  stay  here,  and  be 
your  helper,  however  the  long  the .  time  may  be.  There 
are  two  of  us,  and  I  do  not  think  that  either  of  us  are 
fools,  and  we  ought  to  be  a  match  for  one  man.  There 
is  one  thing  we  have,  that  is  a  man  on  whom  we  can 
rely.  I  do  not  mean  Dr.  Leeds;  I  regard  him  as  our 
director.  I  mean  Tom  Eoberts;  he  would  have  given 
his  life,  I  am  sure,  for  his  master,  and  I  feel  confident 
that  he  will  carry  out  any  instructions  we  may  give  him 
to  the  letter." 

"I  am  sure  he  will,  Netta.  Do. you  think  we  ought 
to  tell  him  our  suspicions  ?  " 

"  I  should  do  so  unhesitatingly,  Hilda.  I  am  sure  he 
will  be  ready  to  go  through  fire  and  water  to  avenge  his 
master's  death.  As  aunt  is  out  I  think  it  will  be  as  well 
to  take  him  into  our  confidence  at  once." 

Hilda  said  nothing,  but  got  up  and  rang  the  bell. 
"When  the  footman  entered  she  said,  "  Tell  Eoberts  that 
I  want  to  speak  to  him."  When  the  man  came  up  she 
went  on,  "  We  are  quite  sure,  Tom,  that  you  were  most 
thoroughly  devoted  to  your  master,  and  that  you  would 
do  anything  in  your  power  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the 
events  that  have  brought  about  his  death  and  the  carry- 
ing off  of  his  grandson." 

"  That  I  would,  miss;  there  is  not  anything  that  I 
would  not  do  if  you  would  only  set  me  about  it." 

"  Well,  Eoberts,  I  am  about  to  take  you  into  our  con- 
fidence, relying  implicitly  upon  your  silence  and  on  your 
aid." 

"  You  can  do  that,  miss,  safely  enough.  There  is 
nothing  now  that  I  can  do  for  my  master;  but  as  for 
Master  Walter,  I  would  walk  to  China  if  1  thought  that 
there  was  a  chance  of  finding  him  there." 

"  In  the  first  place  you  must  remember,  Eoberts,  that 
we  are  acting  only  upon  suspicion;  we  have  only  that 
to  go  upon,  and  our  object  must  be  to  find  some  proofs 
i  to  justify  those  suspicions." 


152  THE  LOST  HE  IB 

"I  understand,  miss;  you  have  got  an  idea,  and  you 
want  to  see  if  it  is  right?  " 

"  We  ourselves  have  little  doubt  of  it,  Roberts.  Now 
please  sit  down  and  listen  to  me,  and  don't  interrupt 
me  till  I  have  finished." 

Then  she  related  the  grounds  that  she  had  for  sus- 
picion that  the  General's  death  and  Walter's  abduction 
were  both  the  work  of  John  Sinicoe,  and  also  her  own 
theory  that  this  man  was  not  the  person  who  had  saved 
the  General's  life.  In  spite  of  her  warning  not  to  inter- 
rupt, Tom  Roberts'  exclamations  of  fury  were  frequent 
and  strongly  worded. 

"Well,  miss!"  he  exclaimed,  when  she  had  finished 
and  his  tongue  was  untied,  "  I  did  not  think  that  there 
was  such  a  villain  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  Why,  if 
I  had  suspected  this  I  would  have  killed  him,  if  I  had 
been  hung  for  it  a  week  after.  And  to  think  that  he 
regular  took  me  in!  He  had  always  a  cheerful  word 
for  me,  if  I  happened  to  open  the  door  for  him.  '  How 
are  you,  Tom?'  he  would  say,  'hearty  as  usual?'  and 
he  would  slip  a  crown  into  my  hand  to  drink  his  health. 
I  always  keep  an  account  of  tips  that  I  receive,  and  the 
first  thing  I  do  will  be  to  add  them  up  and  see  how  much 
I  have  had  from  him,  and  I  will  hand  it  over  to  a  charity. 
One  don't  like  setting  out  to  help  to  bring  a  man  to  the 
gallus  when  you  have  got  his  money  in  your  pocket.  I 
must  have  been  a  fool,  miss,  not  to  have  kept  a  better 
watch,  but  I  never  thought  ill  of  the  man.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  he  had  been  a  soldier.  Sometimes  when  he 
was  talking  with  me  he  would  come  out  with  barrack- 
room  sayings,  and  though  he  never  said  that  he  had 
served,  nor  the  General  neither,  I  thought  that  he  must 
have  done  so.  He  had  a  sort  of  way  of  carrying  his 
shoulders  which  you  don't  often  see  among  men  who 
have  not  learned  the  goose-step.  I  will  wait,  miss,  with 
your  permission,  until  I  have  got  rid  of  that  money,  and 
then  if  you  say  to  me,  '  Go  to  that  man's  rooms  and  take 
him  by  the  throat  and  squeeze  the  truth  mt  of  him.'  I 
am  ready  to  do  it." 


ITETTA    VISITS  STOWMABKET  153 

u  We  shall  not  require  such  prompt  measures  as  that, 
Tom;  we  must  go  about  our  work  carefully  and  quietly, 
and  I  fear  that  it  will  be  a  very  long  time  before  we  are 
able  to  collect  facts  that  we  can  act  upon.  We  have 
not  decided  yet  how  to  begin.  I  may  tell  you  that  the 
only  other  person  who  shares  our  suspicions  is  Dr.  Leeds. 
We  think  it  best  that  even  Miss  Purcell  should  know 
nothing  about  them.  It  would  only  cause  her  great 
anxiety,  and  the  matter  will,  therefore,  be  kept  a  close 
secret  among  our  four  selves.  In  a  few  days  our  plans 
will  probably  be  complete,  and  I  think  that  your  share 
in  the  business  will  be  to  watch  every  movement  of  this 
man  and  to  ascertain  who  are  his  associates;  many  of 
them,  no  doubt,  are  club  men,  who,  of  course,  will  be 
above  suspicion,  but  it  is  certain  that  he  must  have  had 
accomplices  in  the  abduction  of  the  child.  Whether  he 
visits  them  or  they  visit  him,  is  a  point  to  find  out. 
There  is  little  chance  of  their  calling  during  daylight, 
and  it  is  in  the  evening  that  you  will  have  to  keep  a  close 
eye  on  him  and  ascertain  who  his  visitors  are." 

"  All  right,  miss,  I  wish  he  did  not  know  me  by  sight; 
but  I  expect  that  I  can  get  some  sort  of  a  disguise  so 
that  he  won't  recognize  me." 

"  I  don't  think  that  there  will  be  any  difficulty  about 
that.  Of  course  we  are  not  going  to  rely  only  upon  you; 
Miss  Purcell  and  myself  are  both  going  to  devote  our- 
selves to  the  search." 

"  We  will  run  him  down  between  us,  miss,  never  fear. 
It  cannot  be  meant  that  such  a  fellow  as  this  should 
not  be  found  out  in  his  villainy.  I  wish  that  there  was 
something  more  for  me  to  do.  I  know  several  old 
soldiers  like  myself,  who  would  join  me  willingly  enough, 
and  we'  might  between  us  carry  him  off  and  keep  him 
shut  up  somewhere,  just  as  he  is  doing  Master  Walter, 
until  he  makes  a  clean  breast  of  it.  It  is  wonderful 
what  the  cells  and  bread  and  water  will  do  to  take  a 
fellow's  spirit  down.  It  is  bad  enough  when  one  knows 
how  long  one  has  got  to  bear  it;  but  to  know  that  there 
is  no  end  to  it  until  you  choose  to  speak   would  get  the 


154  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

truth  out  of  Old  Nick,  begging  your  pardon  for  naming 
him." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,  Roberts.  That  would  certainly 
be  a  last  resource,  and  I  fear  that  it  would  not  be  so 
effectual  as  you  think.  If  he  told  us  that  if  he  did  not 
pay  his  usual  visit  to  the  boy  it  would  be  absolutely 
certain  we  should  never  see  him  alive  again,  we  should 
not  dare  retain  him." 

"  Well,  miss,  whatever  you  decide  on  I  will  do.  I  have 
lost  as  a  good  master  as  ever  a  man  had,  and  there  is 
nothing  that  I  would  not  do  to  bring  that  fellow  to 
justice." 

The  girls  waited  impatiently  for  the  next  visit  of  Dr. 
Leeds.     It  was  four  days  before  he  came. 

"  I  hoped  to  have  been  here  before,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  have  been  so  busy  that  it  has  not  been  possible  for  me 
to  manage  it.  Of  course  this  business  has  always  been 
in  my  mind,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  the  first  step  to 
be  taken  is  to  endeavor  to  ascertain  whether  this  fellow 
is  really,  as  you  believe,  Miss  Covington,  an  impostor. 
Have  you  ever  heard  him  say  in  what  part  of  the  country 
he  formerly  resided?" 

"  Yes;  he  lived  at  Stowmarket.  I  know  that  some 
months  ago  he  introduced  to  uncle  a  gentleman  who 
was  manager  at  a  bank  there,  and  had  known  him  from 
boyhood.    He  was  up  for  a  few  days  staying  with  him." 

"  That  is  certainly  rather  against  your  surmise,  Miss 
Covington;  however,  it  is  as  well  to  clear  that  matter 
up  before  we  attempt  anything  else." 

"  I  will  go  down  and  make  inquiries,  doctor,"  Netta 
said  quietly.  "  I  am  half  a  head  shorter  than  Hilda,  and 
altogether  different  in  face;  therefore,  if  he  learns  that 
anjr  inquiries  have  been  made,  he  will  be  sure  that  who- 
ever made  them  was  not  Hilda." 

"  We  might  send  down  a  detective,  Miss  Purcell." 

"No;  I  want  to  be  useful,"  she  said,  "  and  I  flatter 
myself  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  quite  as  well  as  a  de- 
tective. We  could  hardly  take  a  detective  into  our  con- 
fidence in  a  matter  of  this  kind,  and  not  knowing  every- 


NETTA    VISITS  STOWMAREET.  155 

thing,  he  might  miss  points  that  would  give  us  a  clew- 
to  the  truth.  I  will  start  to-morrow.  I  shall  tell  my 
aunt  that  I  am  going  away  for  a  day  or  two  to  follow 
up  some  clew  we  have  obtained  that  may  lead  to  Walter's 
discovery.  In  a  week  you  shall  know  whether  this  man 
is  really  what  he  claims  to  be." 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Purcell;  then  we  will  leave  this  mat- 
ter in  your  hands." 

"  By  the  way,  doctor,"  Hilda  Covington  said,  "  we  have 
taken  Eoberts  into  our  confidence.  We  know  that  we 
can  rely  upon  his  discretion  implicitly,  and  it  seemed 
to  us  that  we  must  have  somebody  we  can  trust  absolutely 
'to  watch  this  man." 

"  I  don't  think  that  you  could  have  done  better,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  going  to  suggest  that  it  would  be  well 
to  obtain  his  assistance.  From  what  I  have  heard,  very 
few  of  these  private  detectives  can  be  absolutely  relied 
upon.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  are  necessarily  rogues, 
who  would  take  money  from  both  sides,  but  that,  if  after 
trying  for  some  time  they  consider  the  matter  hopeless, 
they  will  go  on  running  up  expenses  and  making  charges 
when  they  have  in  reality  given  up  the  search.  What  do 
you  propose  that  he  shall  do?" 

"  I  should  say  that,  in  the  first  place,  he  should  watch 
every  evening  the  house  where  Simcoe  lives,  and  follow 
up  everyone  who  comes  out  and  ascertain  who  they  are. 
No  doubt  the  great  majority  of  them  will  be  clubmen, 
but  it  is  likely  that  he  will  be  occasionally  visited  by 
some  of  his  confederates." 

"  I  think  that  is  an  excellent  plan.  He  will,  of  course, 
also  follow  him  when  he  goes  out,  for  it  is  much  more 
likely  that  he  will  visit  these  fellows  than  that  they 
should,  come  to  him.  In  a  case  like  this  he  would 
assuredly  use  every  precaution,  and  would  scarcely  let 
them  know  who  he  is  and  where  he  resides." 

"  No  doubt  that  is  so,  doctor,  and  it  would  make 
Roberts'  work  all  the  easier,  for  even  if  they  came  to 
the  man's  lodgings  he  might  be  away,  following  up  the 
track  of  someone  who  had  called  before  him." 


156  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

Xetta  returned  at  the  end  of  four  days. 

"  I  have  not  succeeded,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Hilda's 
inquiring  look  as  she  came  in.  "  The  man  is  certainly 
well  known  at  Stowmarket  as  John  Simcoe;  but  that 
does  not  prove  that  he  is  the  man,  and  just  as  he  de- 
ceived your  uncle  he  may  have  deceived  the  people 
down  there.  Now  I  will  go  upstairs  and  take  off  my 
things,  and  then  give  you  a  full  account  of  my  pro- 
ceedings. 

"  My  first  step,"  she  began  on  her  return,  "  was,  of 
course,  to  find  out  what  members  of  the  Simcoe  family 
lived  there.  After  engaging  a  room  at  the  hotel,  which 
I  can  assure  you  was  the  most  unpleasant  part  of  the" 
business,  for  they  seemed  to  be  altogether  unaccustomed 
to  the  arrival  of  young  ladies  unattended,  I  went  into 
the  town.  It  is  not  much  of  a  place,  and  after  making 
some  little  purchases  and  inquiring  at  several  places,  I 
heard  of  a  maiden  lady  of  that  name.  The  woman  who 
told  me  of  her  was  communicative.  '  She  has  just  had 
a  great  piece  of  luck/  she  said.  '  About  ten  months 
back  a  nephew,  whom  everyone  had  supposed  to  have 
been  lost  at  sea,  came  home  with  a  great  fortune,  and 
they  say  that  he  has  behaved  most  handsomely  to  her. 
She  has  always  bought  her  Berlin  wool  and  such  things 
here,  and  she  has  spent  three  or  four  times  as  much 
since  he  came  home  as  she  did  before,  and  I  know  from 
a  neighbor,  of  whom  she  is  a  customer,  that  the  yards 
and  yards  of  flannel  that  she  buys  for  making  up  into 
petticoats  for  poor  children  is  wonderful.  Do  you  know 
her,  miss?'  I  said  that  I  did  not  know  her  personally, 
but  that  some  friends  of  mine,  knowing  that  I  was  going 
to  Stowmarket,  had  asked  me  to  inquire  if  Miss  Simcoe 
was  still  alive.  I  said  casually  that  I  might  call  and  see 
her,  and  so  got  her  address. 

"  I  then  went  to  call  upon  her.  She  lives  in  a  little 
place  called  Myrtle  Cottage.  I  had  been  a  good  deal 
puzzled  as  to  what  story  I  should  tell  her.  I  thought 
at  first  of  giving  myself  out  as  the  sister  of  the  young 
lady  to  whom  her  nephew  was  paying  his  addresses;  and 


NETTA    VISITS  STOWMAREET.  157 

as  we  knew  nothing  of  him  except  that  he  was  wealthy, 
and  as  he  had  mentioned  that  he  had  an  aunt  at  Stow- 
market,  and  as  I  was  coming  down  there,  I  had  been 
asked  to  make  inquiries  about  him.  But  I  thought  this 
might  render  her  so  indignant  that  I  should  get  nothing 
from  her.  I  thought,  therefore,  I  had  better  get  all  she 
knew  voluntarily;  so  I  went  to  the  house,  knocked,  and 
asked  whether  Miss  Sinicoe  was  in.  I  was  shown  by  a 
little  maid  into  the  parlor,  a  funny,  little,  old-fashioned 
room.  Presently  Miss  Simcoe  herself  came  in.  She  was 
just  the  sort  of  woman  I  had  pictured — a  kindly-looking, 
little  old  maid. 

" '  I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  done  wrong,  Miss 
Simcoe/  I  said,  '  but  I  am  a  stranger  here,  and  having 
overworked  myself  at  a  picture  from  which  I  hope  great 
things,  I  have  been  recommended  country  air;  and  a 
friend  told  me  that  Stowmarket  was  a  pretty,  quiet, 
country  town,  just  the  place  for  an  overworked  Londoner 
to  gain  health  in,  so  I  came  down  and  made  some  in- 
quiries for  a  single  lady  who  would  perhaps  take  me  in 
and  give  me  a  comfortable  home  for  two  or  three  months. 
Your  name  has  been  mentioned  to  me  as  being  just  the 
lady  I  am  seeking." 

" '  You  have  been  misinformed/  she  said,  a  little 
primly.  '  I  do  not  say  that  a  few  months  back  I  might 
not  have  been  willing  to  have  entertained  such  an  offer, 
but  my  circumstances  have  changed  since  then,  and  now  I 
should  not  think  for  a  moment  of  doing  so.' 

"  Rising  from  my  seat  with  a  tired  air,  I  said  that 
I  was  much  obliged  to  her,  but  I  was  very  sorry  she 
could  not  take  me  in,  as  I  was  sure  that  I  should  be  very 
comfortable;  however,. as  she  could  not,  of  course  there 
was  an  end  of  it. 

" '  Sit  down,  my  dear/  the  old  lady  said.  '  I  see  that 
you  are  tired  and  worn  out;  my  servant  shall  get  you  a 
cup  of  tea.  You  see/  she  went  on,  as  I  murmured  my 
thanks  and  sat  down,  '  I  cannot  very  well  do  what  you 
ask.  As  I  said,  a  few  months  ago  I  should  certainly 
have  been  very  glad  to  have  had  a  young  lady  like  v-mr- 


158  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

self  to  stay  with  me  for  a  time;  I  think  that  when  a  lady- 
gets  to  my  age  a  little  youthful  companionship  does  her 
good. .  Besides,  I  do  not  mind  saying  that  my  means  were 
somewhat  straitened,  and  that  a  little  additional 
money  would  have  been  a  great  help  to  me;  but  every- 
thing was  changed  by  the  arrival  of  a  nephew  of  mine. 
Perhaps  you  may  have  heard  his  name;  he  is  a  rich  man, 
and  I  believe  goes  out  a  great  deal,  and  belongs  to  clubs 
and  so  on.' 

"  I  said  that  I  had  not  heard  of  him,  for  I  knew  noth- 
ing about  society,  nor  the  sort  of  men  who  frequented 
clubs. 

" '  No,  of  course  not,  my  dear,'  she  said.  '  Well,  he 
had  been  away  for  twenty  years,  and  everyone  thought 
he  was  dead.  He  sailed  away  in  some  ship  that  was 
never  heard  of  again,  and  you  may  guess  my  surprise 
when  he  walked  in  here  and  called  me  aunt.' 

"  '  You  must  have  been  indeed  surprised,  Miss  Simcoe/ 
I  said;  '  it  must  have  been  quite  a  shock  to  you.  And 
did  you  know  him  at  once?' 

"'Oh,  dear,  no!  He  had  been  traveling  about  the 
world,  you  see,  for  a  very  long  time,  and  naturally  in 
twenty  years  he  was  very  much  changed;  but  of  course  I 
soon  knew  him  when  he  began  to  talk.' 

" '  You  recognized  his  voice,  I  suppose?'  I  suggested. 

" '  No,  my  dear,  no.  Of  course  his  voice  had  changed, 
just  as  his  appearance  had  done.  He  had  been  what  he 
called  knocking  about,  among  all  sorts  of  horrible 
savages,  eating  and  drinking  all  kinds  of  queer  things; 
it  made  my  blood  run  cold  to  listen  to  him.  But  I  never 
asked  any  questions  about  these  things;  I  was  afraid 
he  might  say  that  when  he  was  among  the  cannibals  he 
used  to  eat  human  flesh,  and  I  don't  think  that  I  could 
like  a  man  who  had  done  that,  even  though  he  was  my 
nephew.' 

" '  Did  he  go  out  quite  as  a  boy,  Miss  Simcoe  ? '  I 
asked. 

"  '  Oh,  no!  He  was  twenty-four,  I  think,  when  he  went 
abroad.    He  had  a  situation  in  the  bank  here.    I  know 


NETTA    VISITS  STOWMARKET  159 

that  the  manager  thought  very  highly  of  him,  and,  in- 
deed, he  was  everywhere  well  spoken  of.  My  brother 
Joshua — his  father,  you  know — died,  and  he  came  in  for 
two  or  three  thousand  pounds.  He  had  always  had  a 
great  fancy  for  travel,  and  so,  instead  of  looking  out  for 
some  nice  girl  and  settling  down,  he  threw  up  his  situa- 
tion and  started  on  his  travels.' 

" '  Had  his  memory  been  affected  by  the  hot  suns  and 
the  hardships  that  he  had  gone  through?'  I  asked. 

" '  Oh,  dear!  not  at  all.  He  recognized  everyone 
almost  whom  he  had  known.  Of  course  he  was  a  good 
deal  more  changed  than  they  were.' 

" '  They  did  not  recognize  him  any  more  than  you 
did?' 

" '  Not  at  first,'  she  said.  When  a  man  is  believed 
to  have  been  dead  for  twenty  years,  his  face  does 
not  occur  to  old  friends  when  they  meet  an  apparent 
stranger.' 

"  '  That  is  quite  natural,'  I  agreed.  '  What  a  pleasure 
it  must  have  been  to  him  to  talk  over  old  times  and  old 
friends! ' 

" '  Indeed  it  was,  my  dear.  He  enjoyed  it  so  much 
that  for  three  days  he  would  not  move  out  of  the  house. 
Dear  me!  what  pleasant  talks  we  had.' 

"  '  And  you  say,  Miss  Simcoe,  that  his  coming  has  quite 
altered  your  position? ' 

" '  Yes,  indeed.  The  very  first  thing  he  said  after 
coming  into  the  house  was  that  he  had  come  home  re- 
solved to  make  me  and  my  sister  Maria  thoroughly  com- 
fortable. Poor  Maria  died  some  years  ago,  but  of  course 
he  did  not  know  it.  Then  he  said  that  he  should  allow 
me  fifty  pounds  a  year  for  life.' 

" '  That  was  very  kind  and  nice  indeed,  Miss  Simcoe/ 
I  said. 

"  By  this  time,  seeing  that  my  sympathy  was  with 
her,  her  heart  opened  altogether  to  me,  and  she  said 
that  she  felt  sure  that  her  nephew  would  not  like  it 
were  she  to  take  in  a  lodger,  and  might  indeed  consider 
it  a  hint  that  he  might  have  been  more  liberal  than  he 


10G  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

was.  But  she  invited  me  to  stay  three  days  with  her 
while  I  was  looking  about  for  suitable  lodgings.  I  found 
that  her  house  was  a  regular  rendezvous  for  the  tabbies 
of  the  neighborhood.  Every  afternoon  there  were  some 
four  or  five  of  them  there.  Some  brought  work,  others 
came  in  undisguisedly  to  gossip.  Many  of  these  had 
known  John  Simcoe  in  his  younger  days,  and  by  careless 
questioning  I  elicited  the  fact  that  no  one  would  have 
recognized  him  had  it  not  been  for  Miss  Simcoe  having 
told  them  of  his  arrival. 

"  The  manager  of  the  bank  I  rather  shrank  from  an 
encounter  with,  but  I  managed  to  obtain  from  Mis3 
Simcoe  a  letter  her  nephew  had  written  to  her  when 
he  was  away  from  home  a  short  time  before  he  left 
England,  and  also  one  written  by  him  since  his  return. 
So  far  as  I  could  see,  there  was  not  the  slightest  resem- 
blance between  them. 

"  I  thought  that  I  might  possibly  get  at  someone  less 
likely  to  be  on  his  guard  than  the  bank  manager,  and 
she  happened  to  mention  as  an  interesting  fact  that  one 
of  the  clerks  who  had  entered  the  bank  a  lad  of  seven- 
teen, only  a  month  or  two  before  her  nephew  left,  was 
now  married  to  the  daughter  of  one  of  her  gossips.  I 
said  that  her  story  had  so  deeply  interested  me  that  I 
should  be  glad  to  make  his  acquaintance. 

"  He  came  with  his  wife  the  evening  before  I  left.  He 
was  very  chatty  and  pleasant,  and  while  there  was  a 
general  conversation  going  on  among  the  others,  I  said 
to  him  that  I  was  a  great  student  of  handwriting,  and  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  could  tell  a  man's  character  from 
his  handwriting;  but  I  owned  that  I  had  been  quite  dis- 
concerted by  two  letters  which  Miss  Simcoe  was  kind 
enough  to  show  me  from  her  nephew,  one  written  before 
he  left  the  bank,  the  other  dated  three  or  four  months 
ago. 

" '  I  cannot  see  the  slightest  resemblance  between  the 
two,'  I  said,  '  and  do  not  remember  any  instance  which 
has  come  under  my  knowledge  of  the  handwriting  of 
any  man  or  woman  changing  so  completely  in  the  course 


NETTA    VISITS  ST0WMARKE1.  16 i 

of  twenty  years.  The  one  is  a  methodical,  business  sort 
of  writing,  showing  marks  of  steady  purpose,  regularity 
of  habits,  and  a  kindly  disposition.  I  won't  give  you 
my  opinion  of  the  other,  but  the  impression  that  was 
left  upon  my  mind  was  far  from  favorable.' 

" '  Yes,  there  has  been  an  extraordinary  change,'  he 
agreed.  '  I  can  recollect  the  former  one  perfectly,  for 
I  saw  him  sign  scores  of  letters  and  documents,  and  if 
he  had  had  an  account  standing  at  the  bank  now  I 
should  without  question  honor  a  check  so  signed.  No 
doubt  the  great  difference  is  accounted  for  by  the  life 
that  Mr.  Simcoe  has  led.  He  told  me  himself  that  for 
years,  at  one  time,  he  had  never  taken  a  pen  in  hand, 
and  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  how  to  write;  and  that 
his  fingers  had  grown  so  clumsy  pulling  at  ropes,  rowing 
an  oar,  digging  for  gold,  and  opening  oysters  for  pearls, 
that  they  had  become  all  thumbs,  and  he  wrote  no  better 
than  a  schoolboy.' 

"  '  But  that  is  not  the  case,  Mr.  Askill,'  I  said;  '  the 
writing  is  still  clerkly  in  character,  and  does  not  at  all 
answer  to  his  own  description.' 

" '  I  noticed  that  myself,  and  so  did  our  chief.  He 
showed  me  a  letter  that  he  had  received  from  Simcoe, 
asking  him  to  run  up  for  a  few  days,  to  stay  with  him 
in  London.  He  showed  it  to  me  with  the  remark  that 
in  all  his  experience  he  had  never  seen  so  great  and 
complete  a  change  in  the  handwriting  of  any  man  as  in 
that  of  Mr.  Simcoe  since  he  left  the  bank.  He  consid- 
ered it  striking  proof  how  completely  a  man's  hand- 
writing depends  upon  his  surroundings.  He  turned  up 
an  old  ledger  containing  many  entries  in  Simcoe's  hand- 
writing, and  we  both  agreed  that  we  could  not  see  a 
single  point  of  resemblance.' 

"  '  Thank  you,'  I  said;  '  I  am  glad  to  find  that  my 
failure  to  recognize  the  two  handwritings  as  being  those 
of  the  same  man  has  been  shared  by  two  gentlemen 
who  are,  like  myself  in  a  humble  way,  experts  at  hand- 
writing.' 

"  T"he  next  morning  I  got  your  letter,  written  after  I 


162  TEE  LOST  EEIBr 

had  sent  you  the  address,  and  told  Miss  Simeoe  that  I 
was  unexpectedly  called  back  to  town,  but  that  it  was 
quite  probable  that  I  should  ere  long  be  down  again, 
when  I  would  arrange  with  one  or  other  of  the  people  of 
whom  she  had  kindly  spoken  to  me.  That  is  all  I  have 
been  able  to  learn,  Hilda." 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  learned  an  immense 
deal,  Netta.     You  have  managed  it  most  admirably." 

"At  any  rate,  I  have  got  as  much  as  I  expected,  if 
not  more;  I  have  learned  that  no  one  recognized  this 
man  Simeoe  on  his  first  arrival  in  his  native  town,  and 
it  was  only  when  this  old  lady  had  spread  the  news 
abroad,  and  had  told  the  tale  of  his  generosity  to  her, 
and  so  prepared  the  way  for  him,  that  he  was  more  or 
less  recognized;  she  having  no  shadow  of  doubt  but  that 
he  was  her  long-lost  nephew.  In  the  three  days  that  he 
stopped  with  her  he  had  no  doubt  learned  from  the  dear 
old  gossip  almost  every  fact  connected  with  his  boy- 
hood, the  men  he  was  most  intimate  with,  the  positions 
they  held,  and  I  doubt  not  some  of  the  escapades  in 
which  they  might  have  taken  part  together;  so  that  he 
was  thoroughly  well  primed  before  he  met  them.  Be- 
sides, no  doubt  they  were  more  anxious  to  hear  tales  of 
adventure  than  to  talk  of  the  past,  and  his  course  must 
have  been  a  very  easy  one. 

"  Miss  Simeoe  said  that  he  spent  money  like  a  prince, 
and  gave  a  dinner  to  all  his  old  friends,  at  which  every 
dainty  appeared,  and  the  champagne  flowed  like  water. 
We  may  take  it  as  certain  that  none  of  his  guests  ever 
entertained  the  slightest  doubt  that  their  host  was  the 
man  he  pretended  to  be.  There  could  seem  to  them 
no  conceivable  reason  why  a  stranger  should  come  down, 
settle  an  income  upon  Miss  Simeoe,  and  spend  his  money 
liberally  among  all  his  former  acquaintances,  if  he  were 
any  other  man  than  John  Simeoe. 

"Lastly,  we  have  the  handwriting.  The  man  seems 
to  have  laid  his  plans  marvelously  well,  and  to  have  pro- 
vided against  every  unforeseen  contingency;  yet  un- 
doubtedly he  must  have  altogether  overlooked  the  ques- 


if  ETTA    VISITS  STOWMARKET.  163 

tion  of  handwriting,  although  his  declaration  that  he  had 
almost  forgotten  how  to  use  his  pen  was  an  ingenious 
one,  and  I  might  have  accepted  it  myself  if  he  had 
written  in  the  rough,  scrambling  character  you  would  ex- 
pect under  the  circumstances.  But  his  handwriting, 
although  in  some  places  he  had  evidently  tried  to  write 
roughly,  on  the  whole  is  certainly  that  of  a  man  accus- 
tomed at  one  time  of  his  life  to  clerkly  work,  and  yet 
differing  as  widely  as  the  poles  from  the  handwriting  of 
Simcoe,  both  in  the  bank  ledger  and  in  the  letter  to  his 
aunt. 

"  I  think,  Hilda,  that  although  the  matter  cannot  be 
decided,  it  certainly  points  to  your  theory  that  this  man 
is  not  the  John  Simcoe  who  left  Stowmarket  twenty 
years  ago.  He  attempted,  and  I  think  very  cleverly,  to 
establish  his  identity  by  a  visit  to  Stowmarket,  and  no 
doubt  did  so  to  everyone's  perfect  satisfaction;  but  when 
we  come  to  go  into  the  thing  step  by  step,  we  see  that 
everything  he  did  might  have  been  done  by  anyone  who 
happened  to  have  a  close  resemblance  to  John  Simcoe  in 
figure  and  some  slight  resemblance  in  face,  after  listening 
for  three  days  to  Miss  Simcoe's  gossip." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

AN    ADVERTISEMENT. 

"  I  cannot  wait  for  Dr.  Leeds  to  come  round,"  Hilda 
said  the  next  morning  at  breakfast.  "  You  and  I  will 
pay  him  a  visit  in  Harley  Street.  I  am  sure  that  he  will 
not  grudge  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  hear  what  you  have 
done." 

"What  mystery  are  you  two  girls  engaged  in?"  Miss 
Pureell  asked,  as  she  placidly  poured  out  the  tea. 

"  It  is  a  little  plot  of  our  own,  aunt,"  ISTetta  said.  "  We 
are  trying  to  get  on  Walter's  track  in  our  own  way,  and 
to  be  for  a  time  amateur  detectives.  So  far  we  have  not 
found  any  decisive  clew,  but  I  think  that  we  are  search- 
ing in  the  right  direction.  Please  trust  us  entirely,  and 
we  hope  some  day  we  shall  have  the  triumph  of  bringing 
Walter  back,  safe  and  sound." 

"  I  pray  God  that  it  may  be  so,  my  dear.  I  know  that 
you  are  both  sensible  girls,  and  not  likely  to  get  your- 
selves into  any  silly  scrape." 

(4I  don't  think  we  are,  aunt;  but  I  am  afraid  that 
neither  of  us  would  consider  any  scrape  a  foolish  one 
that  brought  us  even  a  little  bit  nearer  to  the  object 
of  onr  search.  At  any  rate,  aunt,  it  will  reassure  you 
to  know  that  we  are  acting  in  concert  with  Dr.  Leeds,  of 
whom  I  know  that  you  entertain  the  highest  opinion." 

"  Certainly  I  do.  Of  course  I  am  no  judge  whatever 
as  to  whether  he  is  a  good  doctor,  but  I  should  think, 
from  what  Dr.  Pearson  says,  that  he  must,  in  the  opinion 
oi:  other  medical  men,  be  considered  an  exceptionally 
clever  man  for  his  age;  and  having  seen  him  for  four 
months  and  lived  in  close  contact  with  him,  I  would 
rather  be  attended  by  him  than  by  anyone  else  I  have 
ever  mete     His  kindness  to  the  General  was  unceasing. 

164 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT.  165 

Had  he  been  his  son,  he  could  not  have  been  more 
patient  and  more  attentive.  He  showed  wonderful  skill 
in  managing  him,  and  was  at  once  sympathetic  and 
cheerful.  But,  more  than  that,  I  admired  his  tact  in 
filling  the  somewhat  difficult  position  in  which  he  was 
placed.  Although  he  was  completely  one  of  the  family, 
and  any  stranger  would  have  supposed  that  he  was  a 
brother,  or  at  least  a  cousin,  there  was  always  something. 
in  his  manner  that,  even  while  laughing  and  chatting 
with  us  all,  placed  a  little  barrier  between  us  and  him- 
self; and  one  felt  that,  although  most  essentially  a  friend, 
he  was  still  there  as  the  General's  medical  attendant. 

"  It  was  a  difficult  position  for  a  man  of  his  age  to 
be  placed  in.  Had  he  been  like  most  of  the  doctors  we 
knew  in  Germany,  a  man  filled  with  the  idea  that  he 
must  always  be  a  professor  of  medicine,  and  impressing 
people  with  his  learning  and  gravity,  it  might  have  been 
easy  enough.  But  there  is  nothing  of  that  sort  about 
him  at  all;  he  is  just  as  high-spirited  and  is  as  bright 
and  cheerful  as  other  young  men  of  about  the  same 
age,  and  it  was  only  when  he  was  with  the  General  that 
his  gentleness  of  manner  recalled  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
doctor.  As  I  say,  it  was  a  difficult  position,  with  only  an 
old  woman  like  myself  and  two  girls,  who  looked  to 
him  for  comfort  and  hope,  who  treated  him  as  if  he 
had  been  an  old  friend,  and  were  constantly  appealing  to 
him  for  his  opinion  on  all  sorts  of  subjects. 

"  I  confess  that,  when  he  first  came  here  with  Dr. 
Pearson,  I  thought  that  it  was  a  very  rash  experiment 
to  introduce  a  young  and  evidently  pleasant  man  to  us 
under  such  circumstances,  especially  as  you,  Hilda,  are  a 
rich  heiress  and  your  own  mistress;  and  feeling  as  I  did 
that  I  was  in  the  position  of  your  chaperon,  I  must  say 
that  at  first  I  felt  very  anxious  about  you,  and  it  was  a 
great  relief  to  me  when  after  a  time  I  saw  no  signs,  either 
on  his  part  or  yours,  of  any  feeling  stronger  than  friend- 
ship springing  up." 

Hilda  laughed  merrily. 

"  The  idea  never  entered  into  my  mind,  aunt;  it  is 


166  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

funny  to  me  that  so  many  people  should  think  that  a 
young  man  and  a  young  woman  cannot  be  thrown 
together  without  falling  in  love  with  each  other.  At 
present,  fortunately,  I  don't  quite  understand  what 
falling  in  love  means.  I  like  Dr.  Leeds  better,  I  think, 
than  any  young  man  I  ever  met,  but  I  don't  think  that 
it  can  be  in  the  least  like  what  people  feel  when  they 
fall  in  love.  Certainly  it  was  always  as  uncle's  doctor, 
rather  than  as  a  possible  suitor  for  my  hand— that  is 
the  proper  expression,  isn't  it?— that  I  thought  of  him. 

"So  I  was  glad  to  perceive,  Hilda;  and  I  was  very 
thankful  that  it  was  so.  Against  him  personally  I  had 
nothing  to  say,  quite  the  contrary;  but  I  saw  that  he 
was  greatly  attached  to  a  profession  in  which  he  seems 
likely  to  make  himself  a  fine  position,  and  nothing 
could  be  more  uncomfortable  than  that  such  a  man 
should  marry  a  girl  with  a  fine  country  estate.  Either 
he  would  have  to  give  up  his  profession  or  she  would 
have  to  settle  down  in  London  as  the  wife  of  a  physician, 
and  practically  forfeit  all  her  advantages." 
Hilda  again  laughed. 

"It  is  wonderful  that  all  these  things  should  never 
have  occurred  to  me,  aunt.  I  see  now  how  fortunate 
it  was  that  I  did  not  fall  in  love  with  him.  And  now, 
Ketta,  as  we  have  finished  breakfast,  we  will  put  on  our 
things  at  once  and  s-o  and  consult  our  physician  in  ordi- 
nary. We  have  a  fair  chance  of  being  the  first  to  amve 
if  we  start  immediately.  I  told  Eoberts  to  have  the  car- 
riage at  the  door  at  half-past  nine,  and  he  does  not  begin 
to  see  patients  until  ten."  .      _ 

"Bravo!  Miss  Purcell,"  Dr.  Leeds  exclaimed,  when 
she  had  given  him  an  account  of  her  mission.  01 
course  there  is  nothing  absolutely  proved,  but  at  least  it 
shows  that  his  identity  is  open  to  doubt,  since  none  ot 
the  people  he  had  known  recognized  him  at  first  sight, 
and  of  course  all  his  knowledge  of  them  may  have  been 
picked  ur>  from  the  gossiping  old  lady,  his  aunt.  Some- 
thing has  been  gained,  but  the  evidence  is  rather  nega- 
tive °than  positive.    It  is  possible  that  he  is  not  the  man 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT.  167 

that  ne  pretends  to  be;  though  at  present,  putting  aside 
the  question  of  handwriting,  we  must  admit  that  the 
balance  of  probability  is  very  much  the  other  way.  To 
begin  with,  how  could  this  man,  supposing  him  to  be  an 
impostor,  know  that  John  Simcoe  was  born  in  Stow- 
market,  and  had  relatives  living  there?" 

"  I  forgot  to  mention  that,  Dr.  Leeds.  An  advertise- 
ment was  inserted  in  the  county  paper,  saying  that  if 
any  relatives  of  John  Simcoe,  who  left  England  about 
1830,  would  communicate  with  someone  or  other  in  town 
they  would  hear  something  to  their  advantage.  I  was 
told  this  by  one  of  Miss  Simcoe's  friends,  who  saw  it  in 
the  paper  and  brought  it  in  to  her.  She  was  very  proud 
of  having  made  the  discovery,  and  regarded  herself  quite 
in  the  light  of  a  benefactor  to  Miss  Simcoe.  I  remarked, 
when  she  told  me,  that  it  was  curious  he  should  have 
advertised  instead  of  coming  down  himself  to  inquire. 
Miss  Simcoe  said  that  she  had  expressed  surprise  to  him, 
and  that  he  had  said  he  did  so  because  he  should  have 
Bhrunk  from  coming  down,  had  he  not  learned  there  was 
someone  to  welcome  him." 

"  Curious,"  Dr.  Leeds  said  thoughtfully.  "  We  may 
quite  put  it  out  of  our  minds  that  the  reason  he  gave 
was  the  real  one.  A  man  of  this  kind  would  not  have 
suffered  any  very  severe  shock  had  he  found  that  Stow- 
marke+  and  all  it  contained  had  been  swallowed  up  by 
an  earthquake.  No,  certainly  that  could  not  have  been 
the  reason;  we  must  think  of  some  other.  And  now, 
ladies,  as  this  is  the  third  card  I  have  had  brought  in 
since  you  arrived,  I  must  leave  the  matter  as  it  stands. 
I  think  that  we  are  getting  on  much  better  than  we  could 
have  expected." 

"  That  advertisement  is  very  curious,  Netta,"  Hilda 
said  as  they  drove  back.  "Why  should  he  have  put  it 
in?  It  would  have  been  so  much  more  natural  that  he 
should  have  gone  straight  down." 

"  I  cannot  think,  Hilda.  It  did  not  strike  me  particu- 
larly when  I  heard  of  it,  and  I  did  not  give  it  a  thought 
afterwards     You  see,  I  did  not  mention  it,  either  to  you 


168  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

or  Dr.  Leeds,  until  it  flashed  across  my  mind  when  we 
were  talking.  Of  course  I  did  not  see  the  advertisement 
itself,  but  Miss  Simcoe  told  me  that  there  had  been  a 
good  deal  of  discussion  before  she  answered  it,  as  some 
of  them  had  thought  that  it  might  be  a  trick.5' 

"  "When  was  it  he  went  down?  " 

"It  was  in  August  last  year;  and  it  was  in  the  first 
week  in  September  that  he  came  here." 

"  He  went  down  to  get  or  manufacture  proof  of  his 
identity,"  Hilda  said.  "  As  it  turned  out,  uncle  accepted 
his  statement  at  once,  and  never  had  the  smallest  doubt 
as  to  his  being  John  Simcoe.  The  precaution,  therefore, 
was  unnecessary;  but  at  the  same  time  it  certainly  helps 
him  now  that  a  doubt  has  arisen.  It  would  have  been 
very  strange  if  a  man  possessing  sufficient  means  to 
travel  in  India  should  have  had  no  friends  or  connections 
in  England.  I  was  present  when  he  told  my  uncle  that 
he  had  been  down  to  see  his  aunt  at  Stowmarket,  and 
in  the  spring  he  brought  a  gentleman  who,  he  said,  was 
manager  of  the  Stowmarket  Bank,  in  which  he  had  him- 
self been  at  one  time  a  clerk.  So  you  see  he  did 
strengthen  his  position  by  going  down  there." 

"  It  strengthens  it  in  one  way,  Hilda,  but  in  the  other 
it  weakens  it.  As  long  as  no  close  inquiries  were  made, 
it  was  doubtless  an  advantage  to  him  to  have  an  aunt  of 
the  same  name  in  Stowmarket,  and  to  be  able  to  prove 
by  means  of  a  gentleman  in  the  position  of  manager  of 
the  bank  that  he,  John  Simcoe,  had  worked  under  him 
three  or  four  and  twenty  years  ago.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  was  useful  to  us  as  a  starting-point.  If  we  had  been 
utterly  in  the  dark  as  to  Simcoe's  birthplace  or  past 
career,  we  should  have  had  to  start  entirely  in  the  dark. 
Now,  at  any  rate,  we  have  located  the  birthplace  of  the 
real  man,  and  learned  something  of  his  position,  his 
family,  and  how  he  became  possessed  of  money  that 
enabled  him  to  start  on  a  tour  round  the  world.  I  adhere 
as  firmly  as  before  to  the  belief  that  this  is  not  the  real 
man,  and  the  next  step  is  to  discover  how  he  learned  that 
John  Simcoe  had  lived  at  Stowmarket.     At  any  rate  it 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT  169 

Wudld  be  *4  well  that  we  should  find  the  advertisement. 
It  might  tell  us  nothing,  but  at  the  least  we  should  learn 
the  place  to  which  answers  were  to  be  sent.  How  should 
we  set  about  that? " 

"  I  can  get  a  reader's  ticket  for  the  British  Museum, 
because  the  chief  librarian  was  a  friend  of  uncle's  and 
dined  with  him  several  times,"  Hilda  replied.  "  If  I 
write  to  him  and  say  that  I  want  to  examine  some  files 
of  newspapers,  to  determine  a  question  of  importance, 
I  am  sure  that  he  will  send  me  a  ticket  at  once.  I  may 
as  well  ask  for  one  for  you  also.  We  may  want  to  go 
there  again  to  decide  some  other  point." 

Hilda  at  once  wrote  a  note  and  sent  Tom  Roberts  with 
it  to  the  Museum,  and  he  returned  two  hours  later  with 
the  tickets. 

"  There  are  three  Suffolk  papers,"  the  chief  assistant 
in  the  Newspaper  Department  said  courteously,  on  their 
sending  up  the  usual  slip  of  paper.  "  Which  do  you 
want?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  should  like  to  see  them  all  three, 
please;  the  numbers  for  the  first  two  weeks  in  August 
last." 

In  a  few  minutes  three  great  volumes  were  placed  on 
the  table.  These  contained  a  year's  issue,  and  on  turn- 
ing to  the  first  week  in  August  they  found  that  the  ad- 
vertisement had  appeared  in  all  of  the  papers.  They 
carefully  copied  it  out,  and  were  about  to  leave  the 
library  when  Xetta  said: 

"  Let  us  talk  this  over  for  a  minute  or  two  before  we 
go.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  curious  omission  in 
the  advertisement." 

-What  is  that?" 

"  Don't  you  see  that  he  does  not  mention  Stowmarket? 
He  simply  inquires  for  relations  of  John  Simcoe,  who 
was  supposed  to  have  been  lost  at  sea.  It  would  certainly 
seem  to  be  more  natural  that  he  shoi#d  put  it  only  in 
the  paper  that  was  likely  to  be  read  in  Stowmarket,  and; 
surely  he  would  have  said  '  relatives  of  John  Simcoe, 
who  left  Stowmarket  in  the  year  1830.'  It  looks  very 


170  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

much  as  if,  while  he  knew  that  Simcoe  was  a  Suffolk 
man,  he  had  no  idea  in  what  part  of  the  county  he  had 
lived." 

"  It  is*  very  curious,  certainly,  Netta;  and,  as  you  say, 
it  does  seem  that  if  he  had  known  that  it  had  been  Stow- 
market  he  would  have  said  so  in  the  advertisement. 
Possibly! "  Hilda  exclaimed  so  sharply  that  a  gentle- 
man at  an  adjoining  table  murmured  "  Hush! "  "  he  did 
did  not  know  that  it  was  in  Suffolk.  Let  us  look  in  the 
London  papers.  Let  us  ask  for  the  files  of  the  Times 
and  Standard." 

The  papers  were  brought  and  the  advertisement  was 
found  in  both  of  them. 

"  There,  you  see,"  Netta  said  triumphantly,  "  he  still 
says  nothing  about  Suffolk." 

She  beckoned  to  the  attendant. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble,  but  will  you 
please  get  us  the  files  of  three  or  four  country  papers  of 
the  same  date.  I  should  like  them  in  different  parts  of 
the  country — Yorkshire,  for  instance,  and  Hereford,  and 
Devonshire." 

"  It  is  no  trouble,  miss,"  he  replied;  "  that  is  what  we 
are  here  for." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  three  papers  were  brought,  and 
Netta's  triumph  was  great  when  she  found  the  adver- 
tisement in  each  of  them. 

"That  settles  it  conclusively,"  she  said.  "The  man 
did  not  know  what  part  of  the  country  John  Simcoe 
came  from,  and  he  advertised  in  the  London  papers,  and 
in  the  provincial  papers  all  over  the  country." 

"  That  was  a  splendid  idea  of  yours,  Netta.  I  think 
that  it  settles  the  question  as  to  the  fact  that  the  theory 
you  all  laughed  at  was  correct,  and  that  this  man  is  not 
the  real  John  Simcoe." 

When  they  got  back,  Hilda  wrote  a  line  to  Dr.  Leeds : 

"  Dear  Doctor:  I  do  think  that  we  have  discovered 
"beyond  doubt  that  the  man  is  an  impostor,  and  that  who- 
ever he  may  be,  he  is  not  John  Simcoe.    When  you  can 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT.  Ill 

spare    time,    please    come    round.      It    is    too    long    to 
explain." 

At  nine  o'clock  that  evening  Dr.  Leeds  arrived,  and 
heard  of  the  steps  that  they  had  taken. 

"  Really,  young  ladies,"  he  said,  "  I  must  retire  at  once 
from  my  post  of  director  of  searches.  It  was  an  excel- 
lent thought  to  ascertain  the  exact  wording  of  the  adver- 
tisement, and  the  fact  that  the  word.  Stowmarket  did 
not  appear  in  it,  and  that  it  was  inserted  in  other  county 
papers,  was  very  significant  as  to  the  advertiser's 
ignorance  of  John  Simcoe's  birthplace.  But  the  quick- 
ness with  which  you  saw  how  this  could  be  proved  up  to 
the  hilt  shows  that  you  are  born  detectives,  and  I  shall  be 
happy  to  sit  at  your  feet  in  future." 

"Then  you  thinkthat  it  is  quite  conclusive?" 

"  Perfectly  so.  The  real  John  Simcoe  would,  of  course, 
have  put  the  advertisement  into  the  county  paper  pub- 
lished nearest  to  Stowmarket,  and  he  would  naturally 
have  used  the  word  Stowmarket.  That  omission  might, 
however,  have  been  accidental;  but  the  appearance  of 
the  advertisement  in  the  London  papers,  and  as  you  have 
seen,  in  provincial  papers  all  over  England,  appears  to 
me  ample  evidence  that  he  did  not  know  from  what 
county  Simcoe  came,  and  was  ready  to  spend  a  pretty 
heavy  amount  to  discover  it.  Now,  I  think  that  you 
should  at  once  communicate  with  Mr.  Pettigrew,  and  in- 
form him  of  your  suspicion  and  the  discovery  that  you 
have  made.  It  is  for  him  to  decide  whether  any  steps 
should  be  taken  in  the  matter,  and,  if  so,  what  steps. 
As  one  of  the  trustees  he  is  responsible  for  the  proper 
division  of  the  estates  of  General  Mathieson,  and  the 
matter  is  of  considerable  importance  to  him. 

"  I  think  now,  too,  that  our  other  suspicions  should 
also  be  laid  before  him.  Of  course,  these  are  greatly' 
strengthened  by  his  discovery.  John  Simcoe,  who 
saved  your  uncle's  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  was 
scarcely  the  sort  of  man  who  would  be  guiltv  of  murder 
and  abduction;  but  an  unknown  adventurer,  who   had 


11 f.  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

p?.ssed  himself  off  as  being  Simcoe,  with  tne  object  of 
obtaining  a  large  legacy  from  the  General,  may  iairly 
be  assumed  capable  of  taking  any  steps  that  would,  enable 
him  to  obtain  it.  If  you'd  like  to  write  to  Mr.  Pettigrew 
and  make  an  appointment  to  meet  him  at  his  office  at 
three  o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon,  I  will  be  here  half  an 
hour  before  and  accompany  you." 

The  lawyer  was  somewhat  surprised  when  Dr.  Leeds 
entered  the  office  with  the  two  ladies,  but  that  astonish- 
ment became  stupefaction  when  they  told  their  story. 

'*'  In  the  whole  of  my  professional  career  I  have  never 
heard  a  more  astonishing  story.  I  own  that  the  abduc- 
tion of  the  child  at  that  critical  moment  did  arouse  sus- 
picions in  my  mind  that  this  Mr.  Simcoe,  the  only  person 
that  could  be  benefited  by  his  disappearance,  might  be 
at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  I  was  quite  prepared  to  resist 
until  the  last  any  demand  that  might  be  made  on  his 
part  for  Walter  to  be  declared  to  be  dead,  and  the  prop- 
erty handed  over  to  him.  But  that  the  man  could  have 
had  any  connection  whatever  with  the  illness  of  the  Gen- 
eral, or  that  he  was  an  impostor,  never  entered  my  mind. 
With  regard  to  the  first,  it  is  still  a  matter  of  suspicion 
only,  and  we  have  not  a  shadow  of  proof  to  go  upon. 
You  say  yourself,  Dr.  Leeds,  that  Dr.  Pearson,  the  Gen- 
eral's own  medical  attendant,  and  the  other  eminent  phy- 
sicians called  in,  refused  absolutely  to  accept  your  sug- 
gestion, because,  exceptional  as  the  seizure  and  its  effects 
were,  there  was  nothing  that  absolutely  pointed  to 
poison.  Unless  we  can  obtain  some  distinct  evidence  on 
that  point,  the  matter  must  not  be  touched  upon;  for 
even  you  would  hardly  be  prepared  to  swear  in  court 
that  the  General  was  a  victim  to  poison?  " 

"  No.  I  could  not  take  my  oath  to  it,  but  I  certainly 
could  declare  that  the  symptoms,  to  my  mind,  could  be 
attributed  to  poison  only." 

"  In  the  case  of  the  abduction  of  the  boy,"  the  lawyer 
went  on,  "  the  only  absolute  ground  for  our  suspicion  is 
that  this  man  and  no  one  else  would  have  benefited  by 
it;  and  this  theory  certainly  appears  to  ^e,  si*P"  the 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT.  173 

discoveries  you  have  made,  a  very  tenable  one.  It  all 
comes  so  suddenly  on  me  that  I  cannot  think  of  giving 
any  opinion  as  to  the  best  course  to  be  adopted.  I  shall, 
in  the  first  place,  consult  Mr.  Farmer,  and  in  the  next 
place  shall  feel  it  my  duty  to  take  my  co-trustee,  Colonel 
Bulstrode,  into  my  confidence,  because  any  action  that 
we  may  take  must,  of  course,  be  in  our  joint  names. 
He  called  here  the  other  day  and  stated  to  me  that  he 
regarded  the  whole  matter  of  Walter's  abduction  to  be 
suspicious  in  the  extreme.  He  said  he  was  convinced 
that  John  Simcoe  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  his  interest 
in  getting  the  boy  out  of  the  way  being  unquestionable, 
and  that  we  must  move  heaven  and  earth  to  find  the 
child.  He  agreed  that  we  can  do  nothing  about  carrying 
out  the  will  until  we  have  found  him.  I  told  him  of  the 
steps  that  we  have  been  taking  and  their  want  of  suc- 
cess. '  By  gad,  sir/  he  said,  '  he  must  be  found,  if  we 
examine  every  child  in  the  country.'  I  ventured  to  sug- 
gest that  this  would  be  a  very  difficult  undertaking,  to 
which  he  only  made  some  remark  about  the  cold-blooded- 
ness of  lawyers,  and  said  that  if  there  were  no  other  way 
he  would  dress  himself  up  as  a  costermonger  and  go  into 
every  slum  of  London.  Whether  you  would  find  him  a 
judicious  assistant  in  your  searches  I  should  scarcely  be 
inclined  to  say,  but  you  would  certainly  find  him  ready 
to  give  every  assistance  in  his  power." 

The  next  day,  at  three  o'clock,  Colonel  Bulstrode  was 
announced.  He  was  a  short  man,  of  full  habit  of  body. 
At  the  present  moment  his  face  was  even  redder  than 
usual. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Covington,"  he  burst  out,  as  he  came 
into  the  room,  "I  have  just  heard  of  all  this  rascality, 
and  what  you  and  your  friend  Miss  Purcell  have  dis- 
covered. By  gad,  young  ladies,  I  feel  ashamed  of  myself. 
Here  am  I,  Harry  Bulstrode,  a  man  of  the  world,  and,  as 
such,  considered  that  this  affair  of  the  man  Simcoe  be- 
ing made  heir  in  case  of  the  child's  death  and  the  simul- 
taneous disappearance  of  the  boy  to  have  been  suspicious 
in  the  extreme,  and  yet  I  have  seen  no  way  of  doing  any- 


1?4  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

thing,  and  have  been  so  upset  that  my  temper  has,  as 
that  rascal  Andrew,  my  old  servant,  had  the  impudence 
to  tell  this  morning,  become  absolutely  unbearable.  And 
now  I  find  that  you  two  girls  and  a  doctor  fellow  have 
been  quietly  working  the  whole  thing  out,  and  that  not 
improbably  my  dear  old  friend  was  posioned,  and  that 
the  man  who  did  it  is  not  the  man  he  pretended  to  be, 
but  an  infernal  impostor,  who  had  of  course  carried  the 
child  away,  and  may,  for  anything  we  know,  have  mur- 
dered him.  It  has  made  me  feel  that  I  ought  to  go  to 
school  again,  for  I  must  be  getting  into  my  second  child- 
hood. Still,  young  ladies,  if,  as  is  evident,  I  have  no  sense 
to  plan,  I  can  at  least  do  all  in  my  power  to  assist  you  in 
your  search,  and  you  have  only  to  say  to  me,  '  Colonel 
liulstrode,  we  want  an  inquiry  made  in  India/  and  I  am 
off  by  the  first  P.  and  0." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Colonel,"  Hilda  said,  trying 
to  repress  a  smile.  "I  was  quite  sure  that  from  your 
friendship  for  my  dear  uncle  you  would  be  ready  to  give 
us  your  assistance,  but  so  far  there  has  been  no  way  in 
which  you  could  have  aided  us  in  the  inquiries  that  we 
have^  made.  Indeed,  as  Dr.  Leeds  has  impressed  upon 
us,  the  fewer  there  are  engaged  in  the  matter  the  better; 
for  if  this  man  knew  that  we  were  making  all  sorts  of 
inquiries  about  him,  he  might  think  it  necessary  for  his 
safety  either  to  put  Walter  out  of  the  way  altogether, 
or  to  send  him  to  some  place  so  distant  that  there  would 
"be  practically  no  hope  whatever  of  our  ever  discovering 
him.  At  present  I  think  that  we  have  fairly  satisfied 
ourselves  that  this  man  is  an  impostor,  and  that  the  real 
John  Simcoe  was  drowned,  as  supposed,  in  the  ship  in 
which  he  sailed  from  India.  Who  this  man  is,  and  how 
he  became  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  John  Simcoe 
saved  my  uncle's  life  in  India,  are  mysteries  that  so  far 
we  have  no  clew  to;  but  these  matters  are  at  present  of 
minor  importance  to  us.  Before  anything  else  we  want 
to  find  where  Walter  is  hidden,  and  to  do  this  we  are 
going  to  have  this  man  watched.  He  cannot  have  car- 
ried off  Walter  by  himself,  and,  no  doubt,  he  meets  oc- 


AN  ADVERTISEMENT.  175 

casionally  the  people  who  helped  him,  and  who  are  now 
hiding  Walter.  It  is  scarcely  probable  that  they  come 
to  his  lodgings.  He  is  not  likely  to  put  himself  into 
anyone's  power,  and  no  doubt  goes  by  night  in  some  dis- 
guise to  meet  them.  As,  of  course,  he  knows  you  per- 
fectly well,  it  would  be  worse  than  useless  for  you  to 
try  to  follow  him.  That  is  going  to  be  done  by  Tom 
Roberts." 

"  Well,  my  man  Andrew  might  help  him,"  the  Colonel 
said.  "  Simcoe  has  often  dined  with  me  at  the  club,  but 
he  never  came  to  my  chambers.  One  man  cannot  be 
always  on  the  watch,  and  Andrew  can  take  turns  with 
Eoberts.  He  is  an  impudent  rascal,  but  he  has  got  a 
fair  share  of  sense;  so,  when  you  are  ready,  if  you  will 
drop  me  a  line,  he  shall  come  here  and  take  his  instruc- 
tions from  you." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Colonel.  That  certainly 
would  be  of  assistance.  It  is  only  of  an  evening  that  he 
would  be  wanted,  for  we  are  quite  agreed  that  these  meet- 
iags  are  sure  to  take  place  after  dark." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

VERY   BAD   NEWS. 

A  month  passed.  Tom  Roberts  and  Andrew  watched 
together  in  Jerrnyn  Street,  the  former  with  a  cap  pulled 
well  down  over  his  face  and  very  tattered  clothes,  the 
latter  dressed  as  a  groom,  but  making  no  attempt  to  dis- 
guise his  face.  During  that  time  everyone  who  called 
at  the  house  in  Jerrnyn  Street  was  followed,  and  their 
names  and  addresses  ascertained,  one  always  remaining 
in  Jerrnyn  Street  while  the  other  was  away.  The  man 
they  were  watching  had  gone  out  every  evening,  but  it 
was  either  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  clubs  to  which  he 
belonged,  or  to  the  theater  or  opera. 

"  You  will  trace  him  to  the  right  place  presently, 
Roberts,"  Hilda  said  cheerfully,  when  she  saw  that  he 
was  beginning  to  be  disheartened  at  the  non-success  of 
his  search.  "  You  may  be  sure  that  he  will  not  go  to  see 
these  men  oftener  than  he  can  help.  Does  he  generally 
wear  evening  clothes  ?  " 

"  Always,  miss." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  any  occasion  to  follow  him 
in  future  when  he  goes  out  in  that  dress;  I  think  it  cer- 
tain that  when  he  goes  to  meet  these  men  he  will  be  in 
disguise.  When  you  see  him  come  out  dressed  altogether 
differently  to  usual,  follow  him  closely.  Even  if  we  only 
find  where  he  goes  it  will  be  a  very  important  step." 

On  the  seventh  week  after  the  disappearance  of  "Wal- 
ter, Mr.  Pettigrew  came  in  one  morning  at  eleven  o'clock. 
His  air  was  very  grave. 

"  Have  you  heard  news,  Mr.  Pettigrew?  "  Hilda  asked. 

"  I  have  very  bad  news.  Mr.  Comfrey,  a  lawyer  of 
not  the  highest  standing,  who  is,  I  have  learnt,  acting 

176 


VERT  BAD  NEWS.  HI 

for  this  fellow,  called  upon.  me.  He  said,  c  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  I  have  some  painful  news  to  give  you,  Mr. 
Pettigrew.  Yesterday  the  body  of  a  child,  a  boy  Bome 
six  or  seven  years  old,  was  found  in  the  canal  at  Pad- 
dington.  It  was  taken  to  the  lockhouse.  The  features 
were  entirely  unrecognizable,  and  the  police  surgeon  who 
examined  it  said  that  it  had  been  in  the  water  over  a 
month.  Most  of  its  clothing  was  gone,  partly  torn  off 
by  barges  passing  over  the  body;  but  there  still  remained 
a  portion  of  its  underclothing,  and  this  bore  the  letters 
W.  ii.  The  police  recognized  them  as  those  of  the  child 
who  has  been  so  largely  advertised  for,  and,  as  my  client, 
Mr.  Simcoe,  had  offered  a  thousand  pounds  reward,  and 
as  all  information  was  to  be  sent  to  me,  a  policeman  came 
down,  just  as  I  was  closing  the  office,  to  inform  me  of  the 
fact. 

" '  I  at  once  communica  ted  with  my  client,  who  was 
greatly  distressed.  He  went  to  Paddington  the  first 
thing  this  morning,  and  he  tells  me  that  he  has  no 
doubt  whatever  that  the  remains  are  those  of  Walter 
Eivington,  although  he  could  not  swear  to  his  identity, 
as  the  features  are 'altogether  "unrecognizable.  As  I  un- 
derstand, sir,  that  you  and  Miss  Covington  were  the 
guardians  of  this  unfortunate  child,  I  have  driven  here 
at  once  in  order  that  you  may  go  up  and  satisfy  your- 
selves on  the  subject.  I  understand  that  an  inquest  will 
be  held  to-morrow.' " 

Hilda  had  not  spoken  while  Mr.  Pettigrew  was  telling 
his  story,  but  sat  speechless  with  horror. 

"It  cannot  be;  surely  it  cannot  be!"  she  murmured. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Pettigrew!  say  that  you  cannot  believe  it." 

"  I  can  hardly  say  that,  my  dear;  the  whole  affair  is 
such  a  terrible  one  that  I  can  place  no  bounds  whatever 
to  the  villainy  of  which  this  man  may  be  capable.  This 
may  be  the  missing  child,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may 
be  only  a  part  of  the  whole  plot." 

"  But  who  else  can  it  be  if  it  has  Walter's  clothes  on?  " 

"  As  to  that  I  can  say  nothing;  but  you  must  re- 
member   that    this    man    is    an    extraordinarily    adroit 


178  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

plotter,  and  would  hesitate  at  nothing  to  secure  this  in- 
heritance. There  would  be  no  very  great  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining from  some  rascally  undertaker  the  body  of  a  child 
of  the  right  age,  dressing  him  up  in  some  of  our  ward's 
clothes,  and  dropping  the  body  into  the  canal,  which  may 
have  been  done  seven  weeks  ago,  or  may  have  been  done 
but  a  month.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this 
was  so.  I  only  mean  to  say  that  it  is  possible.  No.  I 
expressed  my  opinion,  when  we  talked  it  over  before, 
that  no  sensible  man  would  put  his  neck  in  a  noose  if 
he  could  carry  out  his  object  without  doing  so;  and  mur- 
der could  hardly  be  perpetrated  without  running  a  very 
great  risk,  for  the  people  with  whom  the  child  was  placed 
would,  upon  missing  it  suddenly,  be  very  likely  to  _  sus- 
pect that  it  had  been  made  away  with,  and  would  either 
denounce  the  crime  or  extort  money  by  holding  a  threat 
over  his  head  for  years." 

"  Yes,  that  may  be  so!  "  Hilda  exclaimed,  rising  tocher 
feet.  "Let  us  go  and  see  at  once.  I  will  take  Netta 
with  me;  she  knows  him  as  well  as  I  do." 

She  ran  upstairs  and  in  a  few  words  told  Netta  the 
news,  and  in  five  minutes  they  came  down,  ready  to  start. 
"  I  have  told  Walter's  nurse  to  come  with  us,"  Hilda 
said.  "If  anyone  can  recognize  the  child  she  ought  to 
be  able  to  do  so.  Fortunately,  she  is  still  in  the  house." 
"Now,  young  ladies,"  the  lawyer  said  before  they 
started,  "  let  me  caution  you,  unless  you  feel  a  moderate 
certainty  that  this  child  is  Walter  Eivington,  make  no 
admission  whatever  that  you  see  any  resemblance.  If 
the  matter  comes  to  a  trial,  your  evidence  and  mine  can- 
not but  weigh  with  the  court  as  against  that  of  this  man 
who  is  interested  in  proving  its  identity  with  Walter. 
Of  course,  if  there  is  any  sign  or  mark  on  the  body  that 
you  recognize,  you  will  acknowledge  it  as  the  body  of 
our  ward.  We  shall  then  have  to  fight  the  case  on  other 
grounds.  But  unless  you  detect  some  unmistakable 
mark,  and  it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  you  will  do  so 
in  the  state  the  body  must  be  in,  confine  yourself  to 
simply  stating  that  you  fail  to  recognize  it  in  any  way." 


VERY  BAD  NEWS.  179 

"  There  never  was  any  mark  on  the  poor  child's  body," 
Hilda  said.  "I  have  regretted  it  so  much,  because,  in 
the  absence  of  any  descriptive  marks,  the  chance  of  his 
ever  being  found  was,  of  course,  much  lessened." 

The  lawyer  had  come  in  a  four-wheeled  cab,  and  in 
this  the  party  all  took  their  places.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken  on  the  way,  except  that  Hilda  repeated  what 
Mr.  Pettigrew  had  said  to  the  nurse.  It  was  with  very 
white  faces  that  they  entered  the  lockhouse.  The  little 
body  was  lying  on  a  board  supported  by  two  trestles. 
It  was  covered  by  a  piece  of  sailcloth,  and  the  tattered 
garments  that  it  had  had  on  were  placed  on  a  chair 
beside  it.  Prepared  as  she  was  for  something  dreadful, 
the  room  swam  round,  and  had  Hilda  not  been  leaning 
on  Mr.  Pettigrew's  arm  she  would  have  fallen.  There 
was  scarce  a  semblance  of  humanity  in  the  little  figure. 
The  features  of  the  face  had  been  entirely  obliterated, 
possibly  by  the  passage  of  barges,  possibly  by  the  work  of 
simple  decay. 

"Courage,  my  dear!"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said.  "It  is  a 
painful  duty,  but  it  must  be  performed." 

The  three  women  stood  silent  beside  the  little  corpse. 
Netta  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  cannot  identify  the  body  as  that  of  Walter  Eiving- 
ton,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  think  that  it  would  be  possible 
for  anyone  to  do  so." 

"Is  the  hair  of  the  same  color?"  the  policeman  who 
was  in  charge  of  the  room   asked. 

"  The  hair  is  rather  darker  than  his,"  Netta  said; 
*  but  being  so  long  in  the  water,  and  in  such  dirty  water, 
it  might  have  darkened." 

"  That  was  never  Master  Walter's  hair!  "  the  nurse 
exclaimed.  "  The  darling  had  long,  soft  hair,  and  unless 
those  who  murdered  him  cut  it  short,  it  would  not  be 
like  this.  Besides,  this  hair  is  stiffer.  It  is  more  like 
the  hair  of  a  workhouse  child  than  Master  Walter's." 

"  That  is  so,"  Hilda  said.  "  I  declare  that  I  not  only 
do  not  recognize  the  body  as  that  of  my  ward,  but  that 
I  am  convinced  it  is  not  his." 


180  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

"Judging  only  by  the  hair,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said,  "I 
am  entirely  of  your  opinion,  Miss  Covington.  I  have 
stroked  the  child's  head  many  times,  and  his  hair  was  like 
silk.  I  have  nothing  else  to  go  by,  and  am  convinced  that 
the  body  is  not  Walter  Kivington's." 

They  then  looked  at  the  fragments  of  clothes.  In  two 
places  they  were  marked  "  W.  K." 

"  That  is  my  marking,  miss,"  the  nurse  said,  after 
closely  examining  the  initials.  "  I  could  not  swear  to 
the  bits  of  clothes,  but  I  can  to  the  letters.  You  see, 
miss,  I  always  work  a  line  above  the  letters  and  another 
below  them.  I  was  taught  to  do  it  so  when  I  was  a  girl  in 
our  village  school,  and  I  have  always  done  it  since.  But 
I  never  saw  anyone  else  mark  them  so.  You  see  the 
letters  are  worked  in  red  silk,  and  the  two  lines  in  white. 
The  old  woman  who  taught  us  said  that  it  made  a 
proper  finish  to  the  work.  Yes,  Miss  Covington,  I  can 
swear  to  these  things  being  Master  Walter's." 

"  You  could  not  swear  to  their  being  those  in  which 
he  went  out  the  morning  he  was  lost,  nurse?" 

"  I  can,  sir,  because  there  is  nothing  missing  except 
what  he  had  on.  I  have  all  his  things  properly  counted, 
and  everything  is  there." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  little  stir  outside,  and 
Hilda  glanced  down  and  whispered  to  Netta: 

"  Let  down  your  fall;  I  do  not  want  this  man  to  recog- 
nize you." 

Just  as  she  did  so  John  Simcoe  entered.  He  bowed  to 
Hilda. 

"  I  am  sorry,  indeed,  to  meet  you  under  such  painful 
circumstances." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  address  me,  sir,"  she  said  haughtily. 
"  I  wish  to  have  no  communication  with  or  from  you. 
Your  coming  here  reminds  me  of  the  thirty-seventh 
verse  of  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  St.  John.  You  can 
look  it  out,  sir,  if  you  happen  to  have  a  Bible  at  home. 
Fortunately  it  is  not  wholly  applicable,  for  we  are  all 
absolutely  convinced  that  this  poor  little  body  is  not 
that  of  General  Mathieson's  grandson." 


VERY  BAD  NEWS.  181 

So  saying  she  stepped  out  of  the  little  house,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others;  leaving  John  Simcoe  white  with 
passion. 

"  You  should  not  have  shown  your  hand  so  plainly, 
Miss  Covington." 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  the  girl  said.  "  He  has  called 
a  dozen  times  at  the  house  and  has  always  received  the 
message,  '  Not  at  home,'  and  he  must  know  that  I  suspect 
him  of  being  Walter's  abductor." 

""What  is  the  verse  you  referred  him  to,  Hilda?" 
-Netta  said.  "  I  confess  that  I  do  not  know  any  verse  in. 
St.  John  that  seems  to  be  at  all  applicable  to  him." 

"  The  quotation  is,  '  They  shall  look  on  Him  whom 
they  pierced.' " 

Netta  could  not  help  smiling.  Mr.  Pettigrew  shook  his 
head. 

"  You  are  really  too  outspoken,  Miss  Covington,  and 
you  will  get  yourself  into  trouble.  As  it  is,  you  have 
clearly  laid  yourself  open  to  an  action  for  libel  for 
having  practically  called  the  man  a  murderer.  We 
may  think  what  we  like,  but  we  are  in  no  position  to 
prove  it." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  that 
he  would  do  it;  then  we  should  have  all  the  facts  brought 
out  in  court,  and,  even  if  we  could  not,  as  you  say,  prove 
everything,  we  could  at  least  let  the  world  know  what 
we  think.  Xo,  there  is  no  chance  of  his  doing  that,  Mr. 
Pettigrew." 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  us,  Miss  Covington,  that  our 
clients  are  for  the  most  part  men.  Y"our  sex  are  so 
impetuous  and  so  headstrong  that  we  should  have  a 
hard  time  of  it  indeed  if  we  had  to  take  our  instructions 
from  them." 

"  Mr.  Pettigrew,  you  will  please  remember  that  there 
are  three  of  my  sex  in  this  cab,  and  if  you  malign  us  in 
this  way  we  will  at  once  get  out  and  walk." 

The  old  lawyer  smiled  indulgently. 

"  It  is  quite  true,  my  dear.  Women  are  always  pas- 
sionately certain  that  they  are  right,  and  neither  counsel 


!82  ,    THE  LOST  HEIR. 

nor  entreaty  can  get  them  to  believe  that  there  can  be 
any  other  side  tc  a  case  than  that  which  they  take,  lalk 
about  men  ruining  themselves  by  litigation;  the  number 
that  do  so  is  as  nothing  to  that  of  the  women  who  would 
do  so,  were  they  to  get  as  often  involved  m  lawsuits! 
When  Dickens  drew  the  man  who  haunted  the  courts 
he  would  have  been  much  nearer  the  mark  had  he  drawn 
the  woman  who  did  so.  You  can  persuade  a  man  that 
when  he  has  been  beaten  in  every  court  his  case  is  a 
lost  one:  but  a  woman  simply  regards  a  hostile  decision 
as  the  effect  either  of  great  partiality  or  of  incompetence 
on  the  part  of  the  judge,  and  even  after  being  beaten  m 
the  House  of  Lords  will  attend  the  courts  and  pester  the 
judges  with  applications  for  the  hearing  of  some  new 
Points.    It  becomes  a  perfect  mania  with  some  of  them. 

"Very  well  Mr.  Pettigrew.  I  would  certainly  carry 
my  case  up  to  the  highest  court,  and  if  I  were  beaten  I 
would  not  admit  that  I  was  in  the  wrong;  still,  I  do  not 
think  that  I  should  pester  the  poor  old  judges  after  that. 
I  suppose  we  shall  all  have  to  come  up  again  to-morrow 
to  the  inquest?"  •       .  ',  ,  T 

"  Certainly.  Nurse  has  recognized  the  clothes,  and  1 
suppose  you  all  recognize  the  marks   Miss  Covington? 

"Yes;  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  clothes  are 

W"Of  course  we  shall  be  represented  by  counsel,"  Mr. 
Pettigrew  went  on.  "We  must  not  let  the  mry  find 
that  this  is  Walter's  body  if  we  can  possibly  pre- 
vent it."  .  ' 

"  You  think  that  they  will  do  so? 

«I  am  afraid  of  it.  They  wnl  know  nothing  of  the 
real  circumstances  of  the  case;  they  will  only  know  that 
the  child  has  been  missing  for  nearly  two  months,  and 
that,  in  spite  of  large  rewards  no >  news  has  been 
obtained  of  him.  They  will  see  that  this  child  is  about 
the  same  age,  that  the  clothes  in  which  it  was  found 
are  thoTe  woJn  by  the  missing  boy.  They  will  hem- 
selves  have  viewed  the  body  and  have  seen  that  identifl- 
Son  is  almost  impossible.    This  man  will  give  his  evi- 


VERT  BAD  NEWS.  183 

dence  to  the  effect  that  he  believes  it  to  be  "Walter  Riv- 
ington's  body.  We  shall  give  it  as  our  opinion  that  it 
is  not;  that  opinion  being  founded  upon  the  fact  that  the 
few  patches  of  hair  left  on  the  head  are  shorter  and 
coarser  than  this  was.  To  us  this  may  appear  decisive, 
but  the  counsel  who  will,  no  doubt,  appear  for  Simcoe, 
will  very  legitimately  say  this  fact  has  no  weight,  and 
will  point  out  that  no  real  judgment  can  be  formed  upon 
this.  The  child  was  missing — probably  stolen  for  the 
sake  of  its  clothes.  Seeing  the  description  in  the  hand- 
bills and  placards,  the  first  step  would  be  to  cut  off  its 
hair,  which  disposes  of  the  question  of  length,  and,  as 
he  will  point  out,  hair  which,  when  very  long,  seems 
soft  and  silky,  will  stand  up  and  appear  almost  bristly 
when  cropped  close  to  the  head.  I  am  afraid  that,  in  the 
face  of  all  that  we  can  say,  the  coroner's  jury  will  find 
that  the  body  is  Walter's.  As  to  the  cause  of  death  they 
will  probably  give  an  open  verdict,  for  even  if  the  sur- 
geon has  found  any  signs  of  violence  upon  the  body, 
these  may  have  been  inflicted  by  passing  barges  long  after 
death." 

"  Will  you  have  it  brought  forward  that  Simcoe  has 
an  interest  in  proving  the  body  to  be  Walter's?" 

"  I  think  not.  There  would  be  no  use  in  beginning  the 
fight  in  the  coroner's  court.  It  will  all  have  to  be  gone 
into  when  he  applies  to  the  higher  courts  for  an  order 
on  the  trustees  of  the  will  to  proceed  to  carry  out  its 
provisions.  Then  our  case  will  be  fully  gone  into.  We 
shall  plead  that  in  the  first  place  the  will  was  made 
under  undue  influence.  We  shall  point  to  the  singularity 
of  the  General's  mysterious  attack,  an  attack  which  one 
of  the  doctors  who  attended  him  at  once  put  down  to 
poison,  and  that  at  the  moment  of  the  attack  Simcoe 
was  sitting  next  to  him  at  dinner.  We  shall  point  to 
the  extraordinary  coincidence  that  the  child  who  stood 
between  Simcoe  and  the  inheritance  disappeared  on  the 
evening  when  the  General  was  in  extremis,  and,  lastly, 
we  shall  fire  our  last  shot  by  declaring  that  the  man  is  not 
the  John  Simcoe  named  in  the  will,  but  is  an  impostor  who 


184  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

assumed  his  name  and  traded  upon  his  brave  action  on 
the  General's  behalf. 

"  But  I  do  not  want  the  fight  to  begin  until  we  are 
in  a  better  position  than  at  present  to  prove  what  we 
say.  As  yet,  however  satisfactory  to  us,  we  have  not 
got  beyond  the  point  of  conjecture  and  probabilities,  and 
I  trust  that,  before  we  have  to  fight  the  case,  we  shall 
obtain  some  absolute  facts  in  support  of  our  theory. 
The  man  would  be  able  at  present  to  put  into  court  a 
number  of  highly  respectable  witnesses  from  Stow- 
market,  and  of  officers  he  has  met  here,  who  would  all 
testify  to  his  being  John- Simcoe,  and  as  against  their 
evidence  our  conjectures  would  literally  go  for  nothing. 
No  doubt  you  will  all  receive  notices  to  attend  this 
evening.  The  policeman  took  your  names  and  addresses, 
and  will  have  told  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  case  the 
nature  of  the  evidence  you  will  probably  give.  And 
please  remember  that,  in  giving  evidence,  you  must  care- 
fully abstain  from  saying  anything  that  would  lead  the 
jury  to  perceive  that  you  have  any  personal  feeling 
against  Simcoe,  for  they  would  be  likely  to  put  down 
your  declaration  of  inability  to  recognize  the  body  as  a 
result  of  a  bias  against  him.  Do  not  let  it  be  seen  that 
there  is  any  personal  feeling  in  the  matter  at  all." 

The  summonses  arrived  that  evening  and  the  next 
morning  they  drove  to  the  coroner's  court,  Miss  Purcell 
accompanying  them.  They  found  Mr.  Pettigrew  await- 
ing them  at  the  door. 

"  There  is  another  case  on  before  ours,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  should  advise  you  to  take  a  drive  for  half  an  hour, 
and,  when  you  come  back,  to  sit  in  the  carriage  until 
I  come  for  you.  The  waiting  room  is  a  stuffy  little 
place,  and  is  at  present  full  of  witnesses  in  the  case  now 
on,  and  as  that  case  is  one  of  a  man  killed  in  a  drunken 
row,  they  are  not  of  a  class  whom  it  is  pleasant  to  mix 
with." 

"When  they  returned,  he  again  came  out.  "  I  have 
just  spoken  to  the  coroner  and  told  him  who  you  are, 
and  he  has  kindly  given  permission  for  you  to  go  up 


VERY  BAD  NEWS.  185 

to  his  own  room.  The  case  he  has  now  berore  him  may 
last  another  half  hour." 

It  was  just  about  that  time  when  Mr.  Pettigrew  came 
up  and  said  that  their  case  was  about  to  commence, 
and  that  they  must  go  down  and  take  their  places  in 
court.  This  was  now  almost  empty;  a  few  minutes  before 
it  had  been  crowded  by  those  interested  in  the  proceed- 
ings, which  had  terminated  in  the  finding  of  manslaughter 
against  four  of  those  concerned  in  the  fray.  The  dis- 
covery of  a  child's  body  in  the  canal  was  far  too  common 
an  event  to  afford  any  attraction,  and  with  the  exception 
of  the  witnesses,  two  counsel  seated  in  the  front  line 
facing  the  coroner,  and  two  or  three  officials,  there  was 
no  one  in  court.  As  soon  as  the  little  stir  caused  by  the 
return  of  the  jury  from  viewing  the  body  had  ceased, 
the  coroner  addressed  them. 

"  We  shall  now,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  proceed  to  the 
case  of  the  body  of  the  child  said  to  be  that  of  Walter 
Rivington,  which  was  found  under  very  strange  and  sus- 
picious circumstances  near  this  end  of  the  canal.  You 
will  hear  that  the  child  was  missing  from  his  home  in 
Hyde  Park  Gardens  on  the  23d  of  October,  and  for  his 
discovery,  as  some  of  you  are  doubtless  aware,  large  sums 
have  been  offered.  The  day  before  yesterday  the  drags 
were  used  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  whether  another 
child,  who  was  lost,  and  who  had  been  seen  going  near 
the  bank,  had  been  drowned.  In  the  course  of  that 
search  this  body  was  brought  up.  You  have  already 
viewed  it,  gentlemen.  Dr.  Macllvaine  will  tell  you  that 
it  has  certainly  been  a  month  in  the  water,  perhaps  two 
or  three  weeks  longer.  Unfortunately  the  state  of  the 
body  is  such  that  it  is  impossible  now  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  death,  or  whether  it  was  alive  when  it  fell  in,  or 
was  placed  in,  the  water.  Fortunately  some  of  its  clothes 
still  remain  on  the  body,  and  one  of  the  witnesses,  the 
nurse  of  the  missing  boy,  will  tell  you  that  the  marks 
upon  them  were  worked  by  herself,  and  that  she  can 
swear  to  them.  Whether  any  other  matters  will  come 
before  vou  in  reference  to  the  case,  which,  from  the  fact 


186  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

that  the  child  was  grandson  of  the  late  General  Mathie- 
son  and  heir  to  his  property,  has  attracted  much  atten- 
tion, I  cannot  say.  The  first  witness  you  will  hear  is  the 
lock-keeper,  who  was  present  at  the  finding  of  the 
body." 

Before  the  witness  was  called,  however,  one  of  the 
counsel  rose  and  said: 

"I  am  instructed,  sir,  to  appear  to  watch  the  pro- 
ceedings on  behalf  of  Mr.  John  Simcoe,  who,  by  the  death 
of  Walter  Rivington,  inherits  under  the  will  of  the  late 
General  Mathieson." 

The  coroner  bowed.    The  other  counsel  then  rose. 

"  And  I,  sir,  have  been  instructed  by  Mr.  Pettigrew 
and  Colonel  Bulstrode,  the  trustees  under  the  will,  the 
former  gentleman  being  also  joint  guardian  with  Miss 
Hilda  Covington  of  the  missing  child,  to  watch  the  case 
on  their  behalf." 

There  was  again  an  exchange  of  bows,  and  the  lock- 
keeper  then  entered  the  box.  His  evidence  was  given 
in  few  words.  He  simply  deposed  to  assisting  in  drag- 
ging the  canal,  and  to  the  finding  of  the  body. 

"Have  you  any  questions  to  ask  the  witness?"  the 
coroner  said,  turning  to  the  barristers. 

The  counsel  employed  by  Mr.  Pettigrew  rose. 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  have  a  few  questions  to  ask.  Now,  Mr. 
Cousins,  you  say  that  you  took  part  in  dragging  the  canal. 
You  are  in  charge  of  the  drags,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  they  are  always  kept  in  readiness  at  the 
lockhouse." 

"How  came  you  to  use  the  drags?  I  suppose  you 
don't  take  them  down  and  spend  a  day  or  two  in  drag- 
ging the  canal  unless  you  have  reason  for  supposing  that 
a  body  is  there." 

"  No,  sir.  The  afternoon  before  a  woman  came  up 
crying  and  said  that  her  child  had  fallen  into  the  water. 
He  had  gone  out  in  the  morning  to  play,  and  when 
dinner-time  came  and  he  didn't  return  she  searched 
everywhere  for  him,  and  two  children  had  just  told  her 
that  they  were  playing  with  him  on  the  bank  of  the 


VERT  BAD  NEWS.  187 

canal,  and  that  he  had  fallen  in.  They  tried  to  get  him 
out,  but  he  sank,  and  they  were  so  frightened  that  they 
ran  home  without  saying  anything.  But  they  thought 
now  that  they  had  better  tell.  I  said  that  she  had 
better  go  to  the  police  station  and  repeat  her  statement, 
and  they  would  send  a  constable  to  help  me.  She  did 
that,  and  came  back  with  the  policeman.  It  was  getting 
late  then,  but  we  took  a  boat  and  dragged  the  canal  for 
two  or  three  hours.  The  next  morning  she  came  again, 
and  said  that  the  boys  had  shown  her  just  where  her 
child  fell  in,  and  we  dragged  there  and  found  this  body. 
TVe  brought  it  ashore,  and  after  we  had  carried  it  to  the 
lockhouse  we  set  to  work  again,  but  could  not  find  any 
other  body." 

"  What  became  of  the  woman?  " 

"  She  was  with  us  till  we  fetched  up  this  body.  When 
6he  saw  it  she  ran  away  crying,  and  did  not  come  back 
again." 

"  You  have  not  seen  her  since,  Mr.  Cousins?  " 

"  Xo,  sir;  I  have  not  seen  her  since.  I  believe  the  con- 
stable made  inquiries  about  her." 

"  Thank  you,  I  have  nothing  more  to  ask." 

The  policeman  then  entered  the  box  and  gave  his  evi- 
dence shortly,  as  to  assisting  in  the  operation  of  drag- 
ging and  to  finding  the  body. 

"  About  this  woman  who  gave  the  alarm,"  the  barris- 
ter asked.     "Have  you  seen  her,  constable?" 

"  No,  sir;  not  since  the  body  was  found.  Thinking 
it  strange  that  she  did  not  come  back,  I  reported  it  at 
the  station.  She  had  given  the  name  of  Mary  Smith 
and  an  address  in  Old  Park.  I  was  told  to  go  round 
there,  but  no  such  person  was  known,  and  no  one  had 
heard  of  a  child  being  lost.  On  my  reporting  this,  in- 
quiries were  made  all  round  the  neighborhood;  but 
no  one  had  heard  of  such  a  woman,  nor  of  a  missing 
child." 

"  This  is  a  very  strange  circumstance,  sir,  and  it  looks 
as  if  the  whole  story  of  the  drowning  child  was  a  fabrica- 
tion.    The  fact  that  the  body  of  the  child  whose  death 


18h  THE  L0S1   HEIR. 

we  are  considering  was  found  close  10  the  spot  would 
certainly  seem  to  point  to  the  fact  that  some  person  or 
persons  who  were  cognizant  of  the  fact  that  this  body 
was  there  were  for  some  reasons  anxious  that  it  should 
be  found,  and  so  employed  this  woman  to  get  the  drags 
used  at  that  point  in  order  that  the  body  might  be 
brought  to  light." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  very  strange  business,"  the  coroner 
said,  "  aud  I  hope  that  the  police  will  spare  no  efforts  to 
discover  this  woman.  However,  as  she  is  not  before  us, 
we  must  proceed  with  the  case." 

Then  the  officer  of  the  court  called  out  the  name  of 
Mary  Summerford,  and  the  nurse  went  into  the  witness 
box. 

'■  I  understand,  Mary  Sommerford,  that  you  were  nurse 
to  "Walter  Eivington?" 

"I  was,  sir." 

"  Will  you  tell  the  jury  when  you  last  saw  him,  and 
how  it  was  that  he  was  lost  ?  " 

She  told  the  story  as  ^he  had  told  it  to  Hilda  on  the 
day  that  he  was  missing. 

"  You  have  seen  the  clothes  found  on  the  body.  Do 
you  recognize  them  as  those  that  he  was  wearing  when 
you  last  saw  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  recognize  them  ?  " 

"  Because  his  initials  are  worked  in  two  places.  I 
worked  them  myself,  and  can  swear  to  them." 

"You  cannot  recognize  the  body,  nurse?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  it  is  the  body  of  my  young  master," 
she  said;  "  his  hair  was  lovely — long  and  silky.  What 
hair  remains  on  the  body  is  very  short,  and  what  I  should 
call  stubbly." 

"  But  the  hair  might  have  been  cut  short  by  the  people 
who  stole  him,"  the  coroner  said.  "  It  is  the  first  pre- 
caution they  would  take  to  evade  the  search  that  would 
at  once  be  set  on  foot." 

'•  Yes.  sir,  but  I  don't  think  that  it  would  have  grown 
up  so  stiff." 


VERT  BAB  NEWS.  189 

"  My  experience  of  workhouse  children,"  the  eoroner 
rehiarked,  "  is  that  whatever  the  hair  they  may  have 
had  when  they  entered  the  house,  it  is  stiff  enough  to 
stand  upright  when  cut  close  to  the  head.  There  is 
nothing  else,  is  there,  which  leads  you  to  doubt  the 
identity  of  the  child?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  cannot  say  that  there  is;  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  it  is  Master  Walter's  body." 

Hilda,  Netta,  and  Mr.  Pettigrew  all  gave  their  evi- 
dence. The  two  former  stated  that  they  identified  the 
clothes,  but,  upon  the  same  ground  as  the  nurse,  they 
failed  to  recognize  the  body  as  that  of  Walter  Riving- 
ton.  All  were  asked  if  they  could  in  any  way  account 
for  the  finding  of  the  child's  body  there.  The  question 
had  been  foreseen,  and  they  said  that,  although  they  had 
used  every  means  of  discovering  the  child,  they  had 
obtained  no  clew  whatever  as  to  his  whereabouts  from 
the  time  that  he  was  stolen  to  the  time  they  were  sum- 
moned to  identify  the  body. 

"  You  quite  assume  that  he  was  stolen,  and  not  that 
he  wandered  away,  as  children  will  do  when  their  nurses 
are  gossiping?" 

"  We  are  convinced  that  he  was  stolen,  sir,  because 
the  search  was  begun  so  momentarily  after  he  was  missed 
that  he  could  hardly  have  got  out  of  sight,  had  he  merely 
wandered  away  on  foot.  Notice  was  given  to  the  police 
an  hour  after  he  disappeared,  and  every  street  in  this 
part  of  London  was  scoured  immediately." 

"  Children  of  that  age,  Miss  Covington,  have  often  a 
fancy  for  hiding  themselves;  and  this  child  may  have 
hidden  somewhere  close  until  he  saw  his  nurse  pass  by, 
and  then  made  off  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  spot 
where  the  child's  body  was  found  is  little  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  corner  where  he  was  missed. 
He  might  have  wandered  up  there,  found  himself  on 
the  canal  bank,  and  childlike,  have  begun  to  play,  and  so 
slipped  into  the  water." 

John  Simcoe  was  the  last  witness  called.  He  gave 
his  evidence  to  the  effect  that  he  had  seen  the  body,  and 


190  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

that  personally  he  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  was 
that  of  Walter  Rivington. 

His  counsel  then  rose. 

"  You  are,  I  believe,  Mr.  Simcoe,  owing  to  the  death  of 
this  poor  child,  the  principal  legatee  under  the  will  of 
General  Mathieson?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  am.  The  whole  business 
has  caused  me  immense  distress.  I  have  felt  that,  being 
the  only  person  that  would  benefit  by  the  child's  death, 
those  who  did  not  know  me  would  have  a  suspicion  that  I 
might  have  had  a  hand  in  his  mysterious  disappearance." 

"  You  have  taken  an  active  part  in  the  search  for 
him?  " 

"  I  offered  a  reward  of  one  thousand  pounds  for 
any  information  that  would  lead  to  his  discovery,  and 
I  believe  that  I  have  traveled  up  and  down  every 
obscure  slum  in  London  in  hopes  of  lighting  upon 
him." 

"  Even  without  the  provision  in  the  will  which  made 
you  next  heir  you  benefited  by  it,  did  you  not?" 

"  I  did,  most  munificently.  General  Mathieson  had 
himself  informed  me  that  I  should  find,  by  his  will,  that 
he  had  not  been  ungrateful  for  a  service  that  I  rendered 
him  many  years  ago;  but  I  was  not  aware  of  the  sum 
that  he  had  left  me.  As  to  the  distant  contingency  of 
inheriting  in  case  of  the  child's  death,  I  was  altogether 
ignorant  of  it;  but  had  I  known  it,  it  would  in  no  way 
have  affected  me.  The  little  fellow  was  a  fine  healthy 
child,  and,  therefore,  the  thought  that  he  might  not 
live  to  come  of  age  would  never  have  entered  my  mind." 

As  the  other  counsel  had  no  question  to  ask,  the  evi- 
dence was  now  concluded. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  you  have  heard  the  evidence,"  the 
coroner  said.  "  Dr.  Macllvaine  has  told  you,  as  indeed 
you  might  judge  for  yourselves  on  viewing  the  body,  that 
it  is  impossible,  in  its  advanced  state  of  decomposition, 
to  say  whether  the  child  was  alive  or  dead  at  the  time 
he  fell,  or  was  placed  in  the  canal.  As  to  who  were  the 
guilty  persons  who  beguiled  the  child  away,  if  he  was 


VERY  BAD  NEWS.  19S 

beguiled,  we  have  no  shadow  of  evidence,  and  it  may  well 
be  that  he  was  stolen  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes.  The 
cutting  short  of  his  hair  certainly  points  to  the  truth  of 
this  theory,  as  does  also  the  fact  that  no  vestige  has  been 
found  of  his  upper  clothing.  It  is  probable  that  some 
woman  enticed  him  away,  and  kept  him  for  some  time 
with  her,  and  then,  when  she  became  alarmed  by  the 
search  made  for  him,  carried  him  in  his  sleep  from  the 
house,  and  perhaps  laid  him  down  by  the  canal,  thinking 
that  he  would  be  found  there  in  the  morning,  and  that 
the  poor  child  awoke  in  the  dark,  wandered  about,  and 
fell  into  the  canal. 

"  However,  this  is  only  theory;  but  it  is  at  least 
supported  by  the  mysterious  incident  of  the  unknown 
woman  who,  by  means  of  a  tale  which  appears  beyond 
doubt  to  have  been  wholly  fictitious,  caused  the  water 
at  that  spot  to  be  dragged.  The  fact  that  on  the  second 
day  she  pointed  out  almost  the  exact  point  where  the 
body  was  found  would  seem  to  show  that  the  child  could 
scarcely  have  fallen  in  the  water,  as  she  suggested,  for 
in  that  case  she  could  not  have  known  the  precise  spot. 
It  would  seem,  then,  more  likely  that  either  the  child 
died  a  natural  death,  perhaps  from  confinement  or  bad 
treatment,  or  possibly  that,  terribly  alarmed  at  the  search 
that  was  being  maintained,  he  was  put  out  of  the  way 
and  then  thrown  into  the  canal  at  this  spot.  In  that 
case  we  may  admit  that  it  is  certainly  strange  that  she 
should  risk  discovery  by  the  course  she  took,  and  I  can 
only  account  for  it  on  the  ground  that  she  had  boon, 
ever  since  his  death,  suffering  from  remorse,  and  potesibly 
6he  may  have  thought  that  she  might  in  some  sort  of  way 
atone  for  her  conduct  were  she  to  point  out  where  the 
child  was,  and  so  secure  for  him  Christian  burial.  That, 
hov  over,  is  not  before  us  at  present,  and  I  see  no  ad- 
vantage in  an  adjournment  for  an  indefinite  time  until 
this  mystery  is  solved.  The  police  have  taken  the  matter 
in  hand,  and  will  spare  no  pains  to  discover  the  woman. 
If  they  do  so,  undoubtedly  proceedings  will  be  taken  in 
another  court.    The  point  that  we  have  to  consider  is  who 


192  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

this  child  was,  and  how  he  came  to  his  death.  Unfortu- 
nately we  are  absolutely  without  any  evidence  of  what 
became  of  him  from  the  time  he  got  lost  up  to  the  dis- 
covery of  his  body,  and  I  think  that  you  cannot  do  other- 
wise than  find  an  open  verdict. 

"  As  to  the  question  of  identity,  there  can,  I  think,  be 
no  shadow  of  doubt.  The  clothes  in  which  he  was  found 
prove  him  beyond  question  to  have  been  Walter  Riving- 
ton,  although  the  body  itself  is  absolutely  beyond  identi- 
fication. I  do  not  think  that  you  need  give  any  weight  to 
the  nurse's  failure  to  recognize  him,  or  to  her  opinion 
about  the  hair.  She  is  naturally  reluctant  to  acknowl- 
edge, even  to  herself,  that  the  child  which  was  lost  by 
her  inadvertence  is  dead,  and  the  ladies  would  be  equally 
reluctant  to  admit  that  all  hope  was  over." 

The  jury  put  their  heads  together,  and  there  was  evi- 
dently no  difference  of  opinion,  for  in  two  or  three  min- 
utes they  sat  down  again  and  the  foreman  stood  up. 

"You  have  decided  on  your  verdict?"  the  coroner 
asked. 

"  We  have,  sir.  We  find  that  the  body  is  that  of  Walter 
Rivington,  and  that  he  was  found  dead  in  the  canal,  but 
how  he  came  there  and  by  what  means  he  came  by  his 
death,  there  is  no  evidence  to  show." 

"  Thank  you,  gentlemen;  that  is  precisely  the  verdict 
that  I  should  myself  have  given." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A   FEESH   CLEW. 

"Just  the  verdict  that  I  expected,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said, 
as  he  and  the  ladies  issued  from  the  courthouse. 

"  I  suppose  that  it  is  for  the  best,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  but  it 
Beems  hard,  when  we  could  have  said  so  much,  to  be 
obliged  to  hold  our  tongues  altogether." 

"  No  doubt  you  will  have  an  opportunity  later  on,  Miss 
Covington.  Our  tongues  are  tied  until  we  can  obtain 
some  sort  of  proof  to  go  upon.  We  cannot  go  into  court 
with  merely  suspicions;  we  must  get  facts.  All  we  have 
done  at  present  is  to  obtain  some  sort  of  foundation  on 
which  to  work;  but  facts  we  shall,  I  hope,  get  ere  long 
from  what  we  may  discover  of  this  fellow's  movements. 
He  is  likely  to  be  less  careful  now  that  it  has  been  de- 
cided that  Walter  is  dead.  He  is  doubtless  well  aware  of 
the  fact  that  trustees  have  a  year  given  them  before  pro- 
ceeding to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  a  will,  and,  there- 
fore, for  that  time  he  will  keep  quiet.  At  the  end  of  the 
year  his  solicitor  will  write  us  a  courteous  letter,  asking 
when  we  shall  be  in  a  position  to  distribute  the  estate  in 
accordance  with  the  provisions  of  the  will.  We  shall 
reply  that  we  are  not  in  a  position  to  do  so.  Then,  after 
a  time,  will  come  letters  of  a  mere  and  more  peremptory 
character,  and  at  last  a  notice  that  they  are  about  to 
apply  to  the  courts  for  an  order  for  us  to  act  upon 
the  provisions  of  the  will.  About  two  years  after  the 
General's  death  the  matter  will  probably  come  on.  I 
may  say  that  I  have  already  sent  checks  to  all  the  small 
legatees.'' 

"  Thank  you,  I  was  aware  of  that,  because  Tom  Roberts 
came  to  me  yesterday  with  his  check  for  two  hund^d 


294  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

pounds,  and  said,  "  Look  here,  Miss  Covington;  you  said 
you  meant  to  keep  me  on  just  the  same  as  in  the  Gen- 
eral's time,  so  this  won't  be  of  any  use  to  me,  and  I 
should,  like  to  spend  it  in  any  way  that  you  tlfmk  best 
to  find  out  what  has  become  of  Master  Walter.'  Of  course 
I  told  him  that  the  money  could  not  be  spent  in  that  way, 
and  that  the  work  that  he  was  doing  was  of  far  greater 
use  than  ten  times  that  sum  would  be." 

"  I  will  send  you  your  check  to-morrow,  Miss  Coving- 
ton. The  sum  we  have  paid  to  the  people  who  have 
been  searching,  .and  all  other  expenses  that  may  be 
incurred,  will,  of  course,  come  out  of  the  estate.  You 
have  not  as  yet  settled,  I  suppose,  as  to  your  future 
plans  ?  " 

"  jSTo,  except  that  I  shall  certainly  keep  on  the  house 
in  Hyde  Park  Gardens  for  the  present.  It  is,  of  course, 
ridiculously  large  for  me,  but  I  don't  want  the  trouble  of 
making  a  move  until  I  make  one  permanently,  and  shall 
therefore  stay  here  until  this  matter  is  finally  cleared 
up.  Miss  Purcell  has  most  kindly  consented  to  remain 
as  my  chaperon,  and  her  plans  and  those  of  her  niece  will 
depend  upon  mine." 

They  had  sent  away  their  carriage  when  they  entered 
the  court,  and  they  walked  quietly  home,  Mr.  Pettigrew 
returning  at  once  to  his  office.  The  next  morning  Tom 
Roberts  accosted  Hilda  as  she  entered  the  breakfast 
room,  with  a  face  that  showed  he  had  news. 

"  We  have  traced  him  down  to  one  of  his  places  at 
last,  miss.  I  said  to  Andrew,  '  We  must  keep  a  special 
sharp  look  out  to-night,  for  like  enough,  now  that  the 
inquest  is  over,  he  will  be  going  to  talk  over  the  matter 
ith  his  pals.'  Well,  miss,  last  night,  at  half-past  nine, 
at  he  comes.  He  wasn't  in  evening  dress,  for  although, 
as  usual,  he  had  a  topcoat  on,  he  had  light  trousers  and 
walking  boots.  He  did  not  turn  the  usual  way,  but 
went  up  into  Piccadilly.  We  followed  him.  I  kept  close 
behind  him,  and  Andrew  at  a  distance,  so  that  he  should 
not  notice  us  together.  At  the  Circus  he  hailed  a-  cab, 
and  as  he  got  in  I  heard  him  say  to  the  driver,  '  King's 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  195 

Cross  Station/  As  soon  as  he  had  gone  off  Andrew  and  I 
jumped  into  another  cab,  and  told  the  man  to  drive  to 
the  same  place,  and  that  we  would  give  him  a  shilling 
extra  if  he  drove  sharp. 

"  He  did  drive  sharp,  and  I  felt  sure  that  we  had  got 
there  before  our  man.  I  stopped  outside  the  entrance, 
Andrew  went  inside.  In  five  minutes  he  arrived,  paid 
the  driver  his  fare,  and  went  in.  I  had  agreed  to  wait 
two  or  three  minutes  outside,  while  Andrew  was  to  be 
at  the  ticket  office  to  see  where  he  booked  for.  I  was 
just  going  in  when,  to  my  surprise,  out  the  man  came 
again  and  walked  briskly  away.  I  ran  in  and  fetched 
Andrew,  and  off  we  went  after  him.  He  hadn't  more 
than  a  minute's  start,  and  we  were  nearly  up  to  him  by 
the  time  he  had  got  down  to  the  main  road.  We  kept 
behind  him  until  we  saw  him  go  up  Pentonville  Hill, 
then  Andrew  went  on  ahead  of  him  and  I  followed. 
We  agreed  that  if  he  looked  back,  suspicious,  I  should 
drop  behind.  Andrew,  when  he  once  got  ahead,  was  to 
keep  about  the  same  distance  in  front  of  him,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  drop  behind  and  take  it  up  instead  of  me,  while 
I  was  to  cross  over  the  road  if  I  thought  that  he  had  dis- 
covered I  was  following  him. 

"  However,  it  did  not  seem  to  strike  him  that  anyone 
was  watching  him,  and  he  walked  on  briskly  until  he 
came  to  a  small  house  standing  by  itself,  and  as  he 
turned  in  we  were  in  time  to  see  that  the  door  was 
opened  to  him  by  a  man.  Andrew  and  I  consulted.  I 
went  in  at  the  gate,  took  my  shoes  off,  and  went  round 
the  house.  There  was  only  a  light  in  one  room,  which 
looked  as  if  there  were  no  servants.  The  curtains  were 
pulled  together  inside,  and  I  could  see  nothing  of  what 
was  going  on.  He  stopped  there  for  an  hour  and  a  half, 
then  came  out  again,  hailed  a  cab  halfway  down  the  hill, 
and  drove  off.  Andrew  and  I  had  compared  Avatches,  and 
he  had  gone  back  to  Jermyn  Street,  so  that  we  should  be 
aWe  to  know  by  the  time  the  chap  arrived  whether  he 
had  gone  anywhere  else  on  his  way  back.  When  I  joined 
him  I  found  that  the  man  must  driven  straight  to  the 


196  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

Circus  and  xhen  got  out,  for  he  walked  in  just  twenty 
minutes  after  I  had  seen  him  start." 

"  That  is  good  news  indeed,  Eoherts.  We  will  go  and 
see  Mr.  Pettigrew  directly  after  breakfast.  Please  order 
the  carriage  to  be  round  at  a  quarter  to  ten." 

Netta  was  as  pleased  as  her  friend  when  she  heard  that 
a  step  had  been  made  at  last. 

"  I  am  sick  of  this  inaction,"  she  said,  "  and  want  to 
be  doing  something  towards  getting  to  the  bottom  of 
the  affair.  I  do  hope  that  we  shall  find  some  way  in  which 
I  can  be  useful." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  at  all  that  you  will  be  very  useful 
when  we  get  fairly  on  the  track.  I  expect  that  this  will 
lead  to  something."  . 

After  Tom  Roberts  had- repeated  his  story  to  Mr.  Petti- 
grew, Hilda  said: 

"I  brought  Roberts  with  me,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  that  he 
might  tell  the  story  in  his  own  way.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  best  thing  now  would  be  to  employ  a  private 
detective  to  find  out  who  the  man  is  who  lives  in  Rose 
Cottage.  This  would  be  out  of  the  line  of  Tom  Roberts 
and  Colonel  Bulstrode's  servant  altogether.  They  would 
not  know  how  to  set  about  making  inquiries,  whereas  a 
detective  would  be  at  home  at  such  work." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  the  lawyer  said.  "  To  make 
inquiries  without  exciting  suspicion  requires  training  and 
practice.  An  injudicious  question  might  lead  to  this  man 
being  warned  that  inquiries  were  being  made  about  him 
and  might  ruin  the  matter  altogether.  Of  course  your  two 
men  will  still  keep  up  their  watch.  It  may  be  that  we 
shall  find  it  is  of  more  use  to  follow  the  track  of  this  man 
than  the  other.  But  you  must  not  be  too  sanguine;  the 
man  at  Rose  Cottage  may  be  an  old  acquaintance  of 
Simcoe.  Well,  my  dear,"  he  went  on,  in  answer  to  a 
decided  shake  of  the  head  on  Hilda's  part,  "you  must 
call  the  man  by  the  only  name  that  he  is  known  by, 
although  it  may  not  belong  to  him.  I  grant  that  the 
manner  in  which  he  drove  into  King's  Cross  station  and 
then  walked  out  on  foot  would  seem  to  show  that  he  was 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  197 

anxious  to  throw  anyone  who  might  be  watching  him 
off  the  scent,  and  that  the  visit  was,  so  to  speak,  a 
clandestine  one.  But  it  may  relate  to  an  entirely  different 
matter;  for  this  man  may  be,  for  aught  we  know,  an 
adept  in  crime,  and  may  be  in  league  with  many  other 
doubtful  characters." 

"  It  may  be  so,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  but  we  will  hope 
not." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,"  the  lawyer  said.  "  I  will  send 
fot  a  trustworthy  man  at  once,  and  set  him  to  work 
collecting  information  regarding  the  occupant  of  the  cot- 
tage. And  now  I  have  a  point  upon  which  I  wish  to  ask 
your  opinion.  I  have  this  morning  received  a  letter  from 
this  man's  solicitor,  asking  if  we  intend  to  undertake 
the  funeral  of  the  body  which  the  coroner's  jury  have 
found  to  be  that  of  Walter  Eivington;  and  announcing 
that,  if  we  do  not,  his  client  will  himself  have  it  carried 
out." 

"  What  do  you  think,  l\lr.  Pettigrew?  "  Hilda  said  hesi- 
tatingly. "  We  may  be  wrong,  you  know,  and  it  may  be 
Walter's  body." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,"  the  lawyer  replied, 
"  and  I  must  say  it  is  my  opinion  that,  as  we  have  all 
stated  our  conviction  that  it  is  not,  we  should  only  stultify 
ourselves  if  we  now  undertook  the  funeral  and  put  a 
stone,  with  his  name  on,  over  the  grave.  If  we  should  at 
any  time  become  convinced  that  we  have  been  wrong,-  we 
can  apply  for  a  faculty  to  remove  the  coffin  to  the  family 
Vault  down  in  Warwickshire." 

"  If  we  could  do  that  I  should  not  mind,"  Hilda  said; 
"but  even  the  possibility  of  Walter  being  buried  by  the 
man  who  we  firmly  believe  was  the  cause  of  his  death  is 
terrible." 

"  Yes,  I  can  quite  understand  your  feelings,  but  I  think 
that  it  is  necessary  that  the  family  should  make  a  protest 
against  its  being  supposed  that  they  recognize  the  child, 
by  declining  to  undertake  the  funeral.  No  protest  could 
well  be  stronger." 

"  If  you  think  that,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  we  certainly  had 


198  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

best  stand  aside  and  let  that  poor  child  be  buried  by 
this  man." 

Two  days  later  they  were  driving  in  the  Eow.  It  was 
Hilda's  first  appearance  there  since  the  General's  death, 
and,  after  talking  it  over  with  Netta,  she  now  appeared 
there  in  order  to  show  that  she  was  perfectly  convinced 
that  the  child  which  had  been  found  in  the  ^anal  was 
not  her  little  cousin.  The  details  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  coroner's  court  had,  of  course,  been  read  by  all  her 
friends,  and  her  appearance  in  the  park  would  be  the 
best  proof  that  she  could  give  that  the  family  were 
absolutelv  convinced  that  the  body  was  not  that  of 
Walter. 

Miss  Purcell  and  Netta  were  with  her.  The  latter  had 
on,  as  usual,  a  thick  veil.  This  she  always  wore  when 
driving  through  any  locality  where  she  might  meet  John 
Simcoe. 

"  That  is  the  man,"  Hilda  said  to  her  in  a  sharp  tone; 
"  the  farther  of  those  two  leaning  on  the  rail  the  other 
side  of  the  road." 

As  Hilda  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  man  she  saw  him  give 
a  sudden  movement.  Then  he  said  to  the  man  next  to 
him: 

"  Do  you  see  that  girl  in  deep  mourning?  It  is  that 
little  vixen,  Hilda  Covington.  Confound  her,  she  is  at 
the  bottom  of  all  this  trouble,  and  I  believe  she  would 
give  ten  thousand  out  of  her  own  pocket  to  check- 
mate me." 

The  carriage  was  opposite  to  them  now.  Hilda  looked 
straight  in  front  of  her,  while  Netta,  who  was  sitting  with 
her  back  to  the  horses,  took  up  the  watch. 

"  She  would  have  to  be  sharp  indeed  to  do  that,"  the 
other  man  said.  "  So  far  everything  has  gone  without  a 
hitch,  and  I  don't  see  a  single  weak  point  in  your  case. 
The  most  troublesome  part  has  been  got  over." 

And  now  some  carriages  going  the  other  way  cut  off 
the  view,  and  Netta  could  read  no  further.  She  drew  ai 
long  breath  as  Hilda's  eyes  turned  towards  her. 

"  What  did  you  read?  "  the  latter  asked. 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  199 

Netta  repeated  what  she  had  caught,  and  then  Hilda 
took  up  the  conversation. 

"  It  is  quite  evident  that  this  man,  whoever  he  is,  is 
an  accomplice.  He  is  a  gentlemanly-looking  man,  and  I 
fancy  that  he  sat  in  the  stalls  near  to  us  one  evening  this 
spring.  However,  it  is  quite  clear  that  he  is  a  confederate 
of  Simcoe.  Just  repeat  his  words  over  again.  They  were 
in  answer  to  his  remark  that  I  would  give  ten  thousand 
pounds  to  be  able  to  checkmate  him." 

Netta  repeated  the  answer  of  Simcoe's  companion. 

"  You  see,  Netta,  there  is  something  to  find  out  that 
would  checkmate  him;  that  is  quite  evident.  He  thinks 
that  I  cannot  find  it  out.  It  must  be,  I  should  think, 
that  Walter  is  kept  in  hiding  somewhere.  It  could  not 
mean  that  he  had  killed  my  uncle,  for  he  would  hardly 
tell  that  to  anyone,  and  so  put  himself  in  their  power." 

"  It  may  mean  that  you  cannot  find  out  that  he  is  not 
John  Simcoe,"  Netta  suggested. 

"  Possibly;  but  he  cannot  know  we  suspect  that." 

"  It  might  be  about  the  last  will,  Hilda." 

The  latter  shook  her  head. 

"  We  have  never  thought  that  there  could  bft  anything 
wrong  about  it.  The  will  was  drawn  up  by  Colonel 
Bulstrode's  lawyers,  and  they  knew  my  uncle  by  sight; 
besides,  all  the  legacies  were  exactly  the  same  as  in  the 
other  will,  the  signature  and  the  written  instructions 
were  in  his  handwriting,  and  he  signed  it  in  the  solicitor's 
office  in  the  presence  of  two  of  their  clerks.  No,  I  don't 
think  he  can  possibly  mean  that.  It  must  be  either 
Walter's  abduction  or  that  he  is  not  John  Simcoe,  and  I 
should  say  that  the  former  is  much  the  more  likely.  You 
see,  he  had  no  need  of  an  accomplice  in  the  matter  of 
getting  evidence  as  to  identity,  whereas  he  did  need  an 
accomplice  in  the  carrying  off  of  Walter.  I  -nould  say 
that  he  is  far  too  clever  a  man  to  let  anyone  into  any  of 
his  secrets,  unless  he  needed  his  assistance.  I  wonder 
who  the  man  with  him  can  be.  He  is  dressed  in  good 
style,  and  I  have  certainly  met  him  somewhere.  I  be- 
lieve, as  I  said,  it  was  at  the  opera.    I  should  have  thought 


200  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

that  a  man  of  that  class  is  the  last  Simcoe  would  choose 
as  a  confederate." 

Miss  Purcell  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as  they 
talked.  She  had  by  this  time  been  taken  completely  into 
their  confidence,  but  had  refused  absolutely  to  believe 
that  a  man  could  be  guilty  of  such  wickedness  as  that 
which  they  suspected.  On  their  return  home  they  found 
a  letter  awaiting  them  from  Mr.  Pettigrew: 

"  My  Deae  Miss  Covington  [it  ran] :  My  detective 
has  not  yet  finished  his  inquiries,  but  has  at  least  dis- 
covered that  the  proprietor  of  Eose  Cottage,  for-they  say 
that  the  place  belongs  to  him,  is  somewhat  of  a  mystery 
to  his  neighbors.  He  lives  there  entirely  alone.  He  goes 
out  regularly  in  a  morning,  it  is  supposed  to  some  occu- 
pation in  the  City.  No  tradesmen  ever  call  at  the  door;  it 
is  supposed  that  he  brings  home  something  for  his  break- 
fast and  cooks  it  for  himself,  and  that  he  dines  in  the 
City  and  makes  himself  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  evening,  or 
else  that  he  goes  out  after  dark.  Sometimes,  of  summer 
evenings,  he  has  been  seen  to  go  out  just  at  twilight, 
dressed  in  full  evening  costume — that  is  to  say,  it  is 
supposed  so,  for  he  wore  a  light  overcoat — but  certainly  a 
white  necktie,  black  trousers,  and  patent  leather  boots. 
Of  course,  in  all  this  there  is  nothing  in  itself  absolutely 
suspicious.  A  man  engaged  in  the  City  would  naturally 
enough  take  his  meals  there,  and  may  prefer  to  do  every- 
thing for  himself  to  having  the  bother  of  servants.  Also, 
if  his  means  permit  it,  he  may  like  to  go  to  theaters  or 
places  of  amusement,  or  may  go  out  to  visit  business 
friends.  I  have,  of  course,  directed  the  detective  to  fol- 
low him  to  town  and  find  out  what  is  his  business,  and 
where  employed.    I  will  let  you  know  result  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  brought  the  letter. 

"  The  man's  name  is  William  Barens.  He  has  a  small 
office  on  the  third  floor  of  a  house  of  business  in  Great 
St.  Helens,,  and  on  the  doorway  below  his  name  is  the 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  201 

word  *  accountant/  The  housekeeper  knows  nothing 
about  him,  except  that  he  has  occupied  the  room  for  the 
last  twelve  years,  and  that  he  is  a  gentleman  who  gives  no 
trouble.  He  always  puts  his  papers  away  at  night  in  his 
safe,  so  that  his  table  can  be  properly  dusted.  She  knows 
that  he  has  clients,  as  several  times,  when  he  has  beers 
away  for  his  dinner  hour,  she  has  been  asked  when  he 
would  return.  He  is  a  well-spoken  gentleman,  though 
not  as  particular  about  his  dress  as  some;  but  liberal  with 
his  money,  and  gives  her  as  handsome  a  tip  at  Christmas 
as  some  people  who  have  three  or  four  rooms,  and,  no 
doubt,  think  themselves  much  finer  people.  This  cer- 
tainly does  not  amount  to  much.  By  the  way,  the  old 
woman  said  that  she  knew  he  was  employed  by  several 
tradesmen  in  the  neighborhood  to  keep  their  books  for 
them." 

Two  days  later  there  was  another  communication: 

"  My  Dear  Miss  Covington:  My  man  has  taken  a 
step  which  I  should  certainly  have  forbidden,  had  he 
told  me  beforehand  of  his  intention.  He  watched  the 
man  go  out,  and  then,  having  previously  provided 
himself  with  instruments  for  picking  locks,  he  opened  the 
door  and  went  in.  On  the  table  were  several  heavy 
ledgers  and  account  books,  all  bearing  the  names  of 
tradesmen  in  the  neighborhood,  with  several  files  of  ac- 
counts, bills,  and  invoices.  These  fully  bore  out  whai) 
the  woman  had  told  him.  Besides  the  chairs,  table,  and 
safe,  the  only  other  articles  of  furniture  in  the  room  were 
an  office  washing  stand  and  a  large  closet.  In  the  latter, 
were  a  dress  suit  and  boots,  and  a  suit  of  fashionable  walk- 
ing clothes,  so  that  it  is  evident  that  he  often  changed 
there  instead  of  going  home.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  all 
this  throws  no  further  light  upon  the  man's  pursuits, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  Simcoe's  visit  to  him,  it  would  be 
safe  to  say  that  he  is  a  hardworking  accountant,  in  a 
somewhat  humble,  but  perhaps  well-paying  line;  that  he 
is  a  trifle  eccentric  in  his  habits,  and  prefers  living  a 


20?  TEhl  ZOST  HEIR. 

cheap,  solitary  life  at  home,  while  spending  his  money 
freely  in  the  character  of  a  man  about  town  in  the  even- 
ing. I  cannot  say  that  the  prospect  in  this  direction 
seems  hopeful.  I  have  told  my  man  that  for  the  present 
we  shall  not  require  his  services  further." 

"  It  does  not  seem  very  satisfactory,  certainly/'  Hilda 
said  with  a  sigh;  "  I  am  afraid  that  we  shall  have  to 
keep  on  watching  Simcoe.  I  wish  I  could  peep  into  his 
room  as  this  detective  did  into  that  of  the  Pentonville 
man." 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  you  would  find  anything  there, 
Hilda;  he  is  not  the  sort  of  man  to  keep  a  memorandum 
hook,  jotting  down  all  his  own  doings." 

"  No,"  Hilda  said  with  a  laugh;  "  still,  one  always 
thinks  that  one  can  find  something." 

Had  Hilda  Covington  had  her  wish  and  looked  into 
John  Simcoe's  room  that  morning,  she  would  certainly 
have  derived  some  satisfaction  from  the  sight.  He  had 
finished  his  breakfast  before  opening  a  letter  that  lay 
beside  him. 

"  What  a  plague  the  old  woman  is  with  her  letters!  I 
told  her  that  I  hated  correspondence,  but  she  persists  in 
writing  every  month  or  so,  though  she  never  gets  any 
reply  except,  '  My  dear  Aunt:  Thanks  for  your  letter. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  well. — Your  affectionate 
nephew.'    Well,  I  suppose  I  must  read  it  through." 

He  glanced  over  the  first  page,  but  on  turning  to  the 
second  his  eye  became  arrested,  and  he  read  carefully, 
frowning  deeply  as  he  did  so.  Then  he  turned  back  and. 
read  it  again.     The  passage  was  as  follows: 

"  I  had  quite  an  interesting  little  episode  a  day  or  two 
after  I  last  wrote.  A  young  lady — she  said  her  name  was 
Barcum,  and  that  she  was  an  artist — came  in  and  asked 
if  I  would  take  her  in  as  a  lodger.  She  was  a  total 
stranger  to  the  place,  and  had  come  down  for  her  health, 
and  said  that  some  tradesman  had  recommended  her  to 
come  here,  saying  that,  as  a  single  lady,  I  might  be  glad 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  203 

to  accommodate  her.  Of  course  I  told  her  that  I  did  not 
take  lodgers.  She  got  up  to  go,  when  she  nearly  fainted, 
and  I  could  not  do  less  than  offer  her  a  cup  of  tea.  Then 
we  got  very  chatty,  and  as  I  saw  that  she  was  really  too 
weak  to  pfo  about  town  looking  for  lodgings,  I  invited 
her  to  stay  a  day  or  two  with  me,  she  being  quite  a  lady 
and  a  very  pleasant-spoken  one.  She  accepted,  and  a 
pleasanter  companion  I  never  had.  Naturally  I  men- 
tioned your  name,  and  told  her  what  adventures  you  had 
gone  through,  and  how  kind  you  were.  She  was  greatly 
interested,  and  often  asked  questions  about  you,  and  I  do 
think  that  she  almost  fell  in  love  with  you  from  my  de- 
scription. She  left  suddenly  on  receipt  of  a  letter  that 
called  her  up  to  town,  saying  that  she  would  return;  but 
I  have  not  heard  from  her  since,  and  I  am  greatly  afraid 
that  the  poor  child  must  be  seriously  ill.  She  was  a 
pretty  and  intelligent-looking  girl,  with  dark  eyes  and 
hair,  and  I  should  say  that  when  in  good  health  she  must 
be  very  bright.  Of  course,  she  may  have  changed  her 
mind  about  coming  down.  I  am  sure  she  would  have 
written  if  she  had  been  well." 

"  Confound  the  old  gossip!  "  John  Simcoe  said  angrily, 
as  he  threw  the  letter  down.  "  I  wonder  what  this  means, 
and  who  this'  girl  can  be?  It  is  clear  enough  that,  who- 
ever she  is,  she  was  sent  down  there  to  make  inquiries 
about  me.  It  is  that  girl  Covington's  doing,  I  have  no 
doubt,  though  it  was  not  the  minx  herself,  for  the  de- 
scription does  not  tally  at  all.  She  has  light  brown  hair 
and  grayish  sort  of  eyes.  There  is  one  comfort,  she  would 
learn  nothing  to  my  disadvantage  from  the  old  woman, 
nor,  I  believe,  from  anyone  at  Stowmarket.  In  fact,  she 
would  only  get  more  and  mere  confirmation  of  my  story. 
I  have  no  fear  upon  that  score,  but  the  thing  shows  how 
that  girl 'is  working  on  my  track.  As  for  the  lawyer,  he 
is  an  old  fool;  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her  I  would  bet  a 
hundred  to  one  that  he  would  never  have  entertained  any 
suspicion  that  all  was  not  right.  It  is  her  doing  all 
through,  and  this  is  a  piece  of  it.     Of  course  she  could 


204  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

have  no  suspicion  that  I  was  not  John  Siniuoe,  but  I  sup- 
pose she  wanted  to  learn  if  there  was  any  dark  spot  in 
my  history — whether  I  had  ever  been  suspected  of  rob- 
bing a  bank,  or  had  been  expelled  from  school  for 
thieving,  or  something  of  that  sort.  I  begin  to  be  down- 
right afraid  of  her.  She  had  a  way  of  looking  through 
me,  when  I  was  telling  my  best  stories  to  the  General, 
that  always  put  me  out.  She  disliked  me  from  the  first, 
though  I  am  sure  I  tried  in  every  way  to  be  pleasant  to 
her.  I  felt  from  the  day  I  first  saw  her  that  she  was  an 
enemy,  and  that  if  any  trouble  ever  did  come  it  would 
be  through  her.  I  have  no  doubt  she  is  moving  heaven 
and  earth  to  find  Walter;  but  that  she  will  never  do,  for 
Harrison  is  as  true  as  steei,  and  he  is  the  only  man  who 
could  put  them  on  the  right  track.  Moreover,  I  have 
as  much  pull  over  him  as  he  has  over  me.  He  has  never 
had  a  doubt  about  my  being  John  Simcoe;  he  doesn't 
know  about  the  other  affair,  but  only  that  Walter  stood 
between  me  and  the  estate,  and  he  was  quite  ready  to 
lend  me  a  hand  to  manage  to  get  him  out  of  the  way. 
So  in  that  business  he  is  in  it  as  deep  as  I  am,  while  I 
know  of  a  score  of  schemes  he  has  been  engaged  in,  any 
one  of  which  would  send  him  abroad  for  life.  I  expect 
those  inquiries  were  made  at  Stowmarket  to  endeavor  to 
find  out  whether  any  child  had  been  sent  down  there.  If 
so,  Miss  Covington  is  not  so  sharp  as  I  took  her  to  be. 
Stowmarket  would  be  the  very  last  place  where  a  man, 
having  relations  and  friends  there,  would  send  a  child 
whom  he  wished  to  keep  concealed.  Still  it  is  annoying, 
confoundedly  annoying;  and  it  shows  that  these  people, 
that  is  to  say  Hilda  Covington,  are  pushing  their  in- 
quiries in  every  direction,  likely  or  unlikely. 

"  The  only  comfort  is,  the  more  closely  they  search 
the  sooner  they  will  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  boy 
is  not  to  be  found.  I  believe  that,  though  they  declared 
they  did  not  recognize  the  body,  they  had  no  real  doubt 
about  it,  and  they  only  said  so  because  if  they  had  ad- 
mitted it,  the  trustees  would  have  had  no  excuse  for  not 
carrying  out  the  provisions  of  the  will.     T^at  +ext  the 


A  FRESH  CLEW.  205 

girl  had  the  impudence  to  quote  to  me  looked  as  if  she 
believed  the  body  was  Walter's,  and  that  I  had  killed  him, 
though  it  may  be  that  she  only  said  it  to  drive  me  to  bring- 
ing the  whole  business  into  court,  by  bringing  an  action 
against  her  for  libel;  but  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  do  that. 
Just  at  present  there  is  a  lot  of  public  feeling  excited  by 
the  circumstances  of  the  child's  loss  and  the  finding  of 
the  body,  and  even  if  I  got  a  verdict  I  fancy  that  the 
jury  would  be  all  on  the  girl's  side,  and  give  me  such 
trifling  damages  that  the  verdict  would  do  me  more  harm 
than  good.  No,  our  game  clearly  is  to  let  the  matter  rest 
until  it  has  died  out  of  the  public  mind.  Then  we  shall 
apply  formally  for  the  trustees  to  be  called  upon  to  act. 
No  doubt  they  will  give  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  but 
Comfrey  says  that  he  thinks  that  the  order  must  be 
granted  at  last,  though  possibly  it  may  be  withheld,  as 
far  as  the  estate  is  concerned,  for  some  years.  At  any 
rate  I  ought  to  get  the  ten  thousand  at  once,  as  the  ques- 
tion whether  the  boy  is  alive  or  dead  cannot  affect  that  in 
the  slightest." 


OHAPTEE   XVII. 

NETTA    ACTS    INDEPENDENTLY. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Hilda,  that  somehow  or  other  we 
are  wasting  our  time,"  Netta  said  one  morning  suddenly, 
as  they  were  sitting  together. 

"How  do  you  mean,  Netta?" 

"  Well,  jrou  see,  we  relied  a  great  deal  on  being  able  to 
overhear  conversation  from  a  distance;  and,  except  those 
few  words  we  gathered  in  the  Park,  we  have  absolutely 
done  nothing  that  way." 

"  But  how  can  we  do  more  than  we  are  doing?  " 

"  I  don't  know;  that  is  what  is  troubling  me.  You  know, 
dear,  that  I  am  quite  content  to  give  up  my  own  work 
to  help  you.  At  first,  of  course,  aunt  and  I  would  have 
stayed  here,  at  any  rate  for  a  time,  to  keep  you  company; 
but  your  uncle  has  been  dead  now  for  more  than  eight 
months,  and  time  is  going  on.  If  I  were  really  helping 
you  I  would  stop,  if  it  were  five  years;  but  in  fact  I  am 
not  helping  you  in  the  way  we  intended." 

"You  are  helping  me,  Netta!"  Hilda  exclaimed  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  How  should  I  have  got  on  through 
all  this  sad  time  if  you  had  not  been  here  to  comfort  and 
cheer  me?  " 

"  Yes,  but  the  necessity  for  that  is  over.  You  have 
your  friends,  and  though  you  don't  go  out  yet,  you  often 
go  to  Lad}'-  Moulton's  and  some  of  your  other  friends', 
and  they  come  to  see  you." 

"  Yes,  and  you  will  never  go  with  me,  Netta,  nor  see 
them  when  they  come." 

"  No,  dear;  I  have  nothing  in  common  with  them.  I 
do  not  know  the  people  of  whom  you  talk,  and  should 
simply  sit  there  uncomfortably,  so  I  prefer  to  be  out  of  it 


VETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  207 

altogether.  Then  I  really  miss  my  work.  Ever  since  you 
came  to  us  some  eight  years  ago  I  have  heen  teaching 
eight  or  ten  hours  a  day.  I  like  the  work;  it  is  immensely 
interesting,  and  I  am  happy  in  seeing  my  pupils  improve." 

"  And  all  this  means,"  "Jilda  said  sorrowfully,  "  you 
are  going  to  say  that  it  is  dme  for  you  to  go  back." 

"  No,  it  does  not  necc  ssarily  mean  that — there  is  an 
alternative;  I  must  either  he  doing  something  or  go 
back." 

"  But,  as  I  said  before,  Netta,  what  can  we  do,  more 
than  we  have  done?" 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  thinking,  Hilda.  Anyhow, 
I  mean  to  try  to  do  something  before  I  give  it  up  and 
go  to  Germany  again." 

"I  warn  you,  Netta,  that  I  shall  be  furious  if  you  do 
that.  I  am  my  own  mistress  now,  for  Mr.  Pettigrew  will 
let  me  do  as  I  like  now  I  am  nineteen,  and  am  quite  de- 
termined that  our  old  plan  shall  be  carried  out,  and  that 
you  shall  start  an  institution  like  that  of  Professor 
Menzel  somewhere  near  London.  You  have  been  twelve 
months  away,  your  pupils  have  already  taken  to  other 
teachers,  and  there  cannot  be  the  least  occasion  for  your 
assistance  in  an  institut^jn  that  is  now  well  stocked  with 
teachers,  while  here  jort  could  do  enormous  good.  Any- 
how, whether  you  stay  or  not,  I  shall,  as  soon  as  all  this 
is  settled,  take  a  large  house  standing  in  its  own  grounds, 
in  some  healthy  place  near  London,  and  obtain  teachers." 

"  Well,  we  need  not  talk  of  that  just  yet,"  Netta  said 
quietly;  "  it  will  be  time  enough  when  I  have  failed  in 
carrying  out  my  plans." 

"  But  what  are  your  plans?  " 

"  I  have  not  quite  settled  myself;  and  when  I  do  I  mean 
to  work  entirely  in  my  own  way,  and  shall  say  nothing 
about  it  until  I  come  to  you  and  say  I  have  succeeded,  or 
I  have  failed." 

Hilda  opened  her  eyes  in  surprise. 

"  But  why  should  I  be  kept  in  the  dark?  " 

"  Because,  dear,  you  might  not  approve  of  mv  plans/' 
Netta  replied  coolly. 


208  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"  You  are  not  thinking  of  doing  anything  foolish,  1 
hope  ?  "  Hilda  exclaimed. 

"  If  it  were  foolish  it  would  be  excusable  where  the 
counsels  of  wisdom  have  failed,"  Netta  laughed;  and 
then  more  seriously,  "  Nothing  would  be  foolish  if  it 
could  possibly  lead  to  the  discovery  of  Walter's  hiding 
place." 

That  afternoon,  when  Hilda  drove  out  with  Miss  Pur- 
cell  to  make  some  calls,  Netta  rang  the  bell,  and  when 
Tom  Roberts  came  in  she  said: 

"  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you,  Roberts.  But 
mind,  what  I  say  is  to  be  kept  a  perfect  secret  between 
ourselves." 

"  Yes,  miss,"  he  said  in  surprise. 

"  Now,  sit  down,"  she  went  on;  "  we  can  talk  more 
comfortably  so.  Now,  Roberts,  there  is  no  doubt  that  we 
are  not  making  much  headway  with  our  search." 

"  That  we  are  not,  Miss  Netta,"  he  agreed.  "  I  did 
think  that  we  had  gained  something  when  we  traced  him 
to  that  house  on  Pentonville  Hill,  but  it  does  not  seem 
that  anything  has  come  of  it,  after  all." 

"  Then  it  is  quite  time  that  we  took  some  other  steps," 
she  said  decisively. 

"  I  am  ready,  miss,"  he  replied  eagerly.  "  You  tell  me 
what  to  do,  and  I  am  game  to  do  it." 

"  "Well,  there  are  two  or  three  things  I  have  in  my, 
mind.  First  of  all,  I  want  to  be  able  to  watch  John 
Simcoe  and  this  Pentonville  man  when  they  are  talking 
together." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  he  said;  "  but  how  is  it  to  be 
done?" 

"  That  is  what  I  want  to  find  out.  Now,  in  the  first 
place,  about  this  house.  Which  way  did  the  window  look 
of  the  room  where  there  was  a  light  ?  " 

"  That  window  was  at  the  side  of  the  house,  miss;  a 
little  way  round  the  corner.  We  noticed  the  light  there, 
but  there  was  another  window  looking  out  on  the  front. 
We  did  not  see  any  light  there,  as  the  shutters  were 
closed-" 


KETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  200 

"And  you  say  that  the  curtains  of  the  other  window 
iwere  pulled  very  close?" 

"  Yes,  they  crossed  each  other  most  of  the  way  down." 

"  Now,  the  question  in  my  mind,  Eoberts,  is  which 
would  be  easier — to  cut  a  slit  in  the  curtain,  or  to  bore  a 
hole  in  the  shutter,  or  to  take  a  brick  out  carefully  from 
the  side  wall  and  then  to  deepen  the  hole  until  we  got  to 
the  wall-paper,  and  then  make  a  slight  hole  there  ?  " 

Eoberts  looked  at  her  with  astonishment.  "  Do  you 
really  mean  it,  miss  ?  " 

"Certainly  I  mean  it;  it  seems  to  me  that  our  only 
chance  of  ever  finding  Walter  is  to  overhear  those  men's 
talk." 

"  Then,  miss,  I  should  say  that  the  simplest  way  would 
be  to  cut  a  window  pane  out." 

"  Yes;  but,  yon  see,  it  is  pretty  certain  that  that  cur- 
tain will  not  be  drawn  until  they  come  in,  and  they  would 
notice  it  at  once.  If  we  took  out  a  pane  in  the  front 
window  the  shutter  would  prevent  our  seeing  or  hearing, 
and  the  man  would  be  sure  to  notice  the  pane  was  missing 
as  he  walked  up  from  the  gate  to  the  house." 

"  I  should  say,  miss,  that  the  best  plan  would  be  for 
me  to  manage  to  get  into  the  house  some  time  during 
the  day  and  to  hide  in  that  room,  under  the  table  or  sofa 
or  somewhere,  and  listen  to  them." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  In  the  first  place,  Eoberts,  you  would  certainly  be 
murdered  if  they  found  you  there." 

"I  would  take  my  chance  of  that,  miss;  and  you  may 
be  sure  that  I  would  take  a  brace  of  the  General's  pistols 
with  me,  and  they  would  not  find  it  such  easy  work  to 
get  rid  of  me." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  Netta  said,  "  but  if  in  the  struggle 
Vou  shot  them  both,  our  last  chance  of  ever  hearing  of 
Walter  would  be  gone.  You  yourself  might  be  tried  for 
murder,  and  it  would  be  assumed,  of  course,  that  you 
were  a  burglar;  for  the  explanation  that  you  had  broken 
into  the  house  only  to  hear  a  conversation  would  scarcely 
be  believed,    Moreover,  you  must  rememi^"  that  we  don't 


210  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

know  how  often  these  men  meet.  Simcoe  has  not  been 
there  since  you  tracked  him  there  six  months  ago,  and 
the  only  thing  we  have  since  found  out  is  that  the  man  I 
saw  him  with  in  the  park  is  the  man  who  lives  in  that 
house.  It  would  never  do  for  you  to  make  an  entrance 
into  the  house  night  after  night  and  week  after  week,  to 
run  the  risk  of  being  detected  there,  or  seized  as  you 
entered,  or  caught  by  the  police  as  a  burglar.  No,  as  far 
as  I  can  see,  the  only  safe  plan  is  to  get  oat  a  brick  very 
carefully  in  the  side  wall  and  to  make  a  hole  behind  it 
through  the  paper.  It  might  be  necessary  to  make  an 
entry  into  the  house  before  this  was  done,  so  as  to  decide 
which  was  the  best  spot  for  an  opening.  A  great  deal 
would  depend  upon  the  paper  in  the  room.  If  it  is  a 
light  paper,  with  only  a  small  amount  of  pattern  upon  it, 
any  hole  large  enough  to  see  through  might  be  noticed. 
If  it  is  a  dark  paper,  well  covered,  a  hole  might  be  made 
without  any  fear  of  its  catching  the  eye.  You  see,  it 
must  be  a  rather  large  hole,  for,  supposing  the  wall  is 
only  nine  inches  thick,  a  person  standing  outside  could 
not  see  what  was  passing  inside  unless  the  hole  were  a 
good  size." 

"  But  I  doubt  much  if  you  would  be  able  to  hear  them, 
Miss  Netta." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  that  I  should;  especially  as  people 
talking  of  things  of  that  sort,  even  if  they  had  no  great 
/ear  of  being  overheard,  would  speak  in  a  low  voice.  But 
that  would  not  matter  if  I  could  see  their  faces.  I  should 
know  what  they  were  saying." 

Koberts  did  not  think  it  right  to  offer  any  remark  on 
what  appeared  to  him  to  be  impossible,  and  he  confined 
himself  to  saying  in  a  respectful  voice,  "  Indeed,  Miss 
Netta." 

"  I  am  stone-deaf,"  she  said,  "  but  have  learned  to 
read  what  people  are  saying  from  the  movement  of  their 
lips." 

Although  the  "  Indeed,  miss,"  was  as  respectful  as 
before,  Netta  saw  that  he  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
believe  her. 


NETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  211 

"Just  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  Roberts,  and 
make  some  remark  to  yourself.  Move  your  lips  in  the 
same  way  as  if  you  were  talking,  but  do  not  make  any 
sound." 

Roberts,  with  military  obedience,  marched  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  placed  himself  in  a  corner,  and  turned 
round,  facing  her.  His  lips  moved,  and,  confident  that 
she  could  not  know  what  he  was  saying,  he  expressed  his 
natural  sentiments. 

The  girl  at  once  repeated  the  words:  "Well,  I'm 
jiggered!  This  is  a  rum  start:  Miss  Netta  has  gone  clean 
off  her  head." 

Roberts'  jaw  dropped,  and  he  flushed  up  to  the  hair. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  began;  but  he  was  stopped  by  the 
girl's  merry  laugh. 

"  Do  not  apologize,  Roberts;  it  was  natural  enough  that 
you  should  be  surprised.  Well,  you  see  I  can  do  as  I  say. 
We  will  now  go  on  with  our  talk." 

Greatly  abashed,  Tom  Roberts  returned  to  the  chair, 
murmuring  to  himself  as  he  sat  down,  "  Well,  I'm 
blowed!  "  when  he  was  roughly  recalled  to  the  necessity 
of  keeping  his  mouth  shut  by  her  quiet  remark,  "  Never 
mind  about  being  blowed  at  present,  Roberts;  let  us  talk 
over  another  plan.  Who  are  the  keepers  of  the  house 
in  Jermyn  Street  ?  " 

"It  is  kept  by  a  man  and  his  wife,  miss.  He  has 
been  a  butler,  I  believe,  and  his  wife  was  a  cook.  He 
waits  upon  the  gentlemen  who  lodge  there,  and  she  cooks. 
They  have  a  girl  who  sweeps  and  does  the  bedrooms  and 
the  scrubbing  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"What  sort  of  a  girl  is  she,  Roberts?" 

"  She  seems  a  nice  sort  of  young  woman,  miss.  Andrew 
has  spoken  to  her  more  than  I  have,  because,  you  see, 
my  get-up  aint  likely  to  take  much  with  a  young 
girl." 

"  I  suppose  she  is  not  very  much  attached  to  her 
place?" 

"  Lor',  no,  miss;  she  told  Andrew  that  she  was  only 
six  months  up  from  the  country,  and  they  don't  nay  her 


213  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

but  eight  pounds  a  year,  and  pretty  hard  work  slit  uas  t« 
do  for  it." 

"  Well,  Eoberts,  I  want  to  take  her  place/' 

"  You  want — — "  and  Eoberts'  voice  failed  him  in  his 
astonishment. 

"Yes,  I  want  to  take  her  place,  Eoberts.  I  shoiud 
think  that  if  you  or  Andrew  were  to  tell  her  that  you 
have  a  friend  up  from  the  country  who  wants  just  such 
a  place,  and  is  ready  to  pay  five  pounds  to  get  one,  she 
might  be  ready  to  take  the  offer;  especially  as  you  might 
say  that  you  knew  of  a  lady  who  is  in  want  of  an  under- 
housemaid  and  you  thought  that  you  could  get  her  the 
place." 

"As  to  that,  miss,  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  would 
leave  to-morrow,  if  she  could  get  five  pounds.  She  told 
Andrew  that  she  hated  London,  and  should  go  down  home 
and  take  a  country  place  as  soon  as  she  had  saved  up 
money  to  do  so." 

"  All  the  better,  Eoberts;  then  all  she  would  have  to 
do  would  be  to  say  that  she  had  heard  of  a  place  near 
home,  and  wanted  to  leave  at  once.  She  did  not  wish 
to  inconvenience  them,  but  that  she  had  a  cousin  who 
was  just  coming  up  to  London  and  wanted  a  place,  and 
that  she  would  jump  at  it.  She  could  say  that  her  cousin 
had  not  been  in  service  before,  but  that  she  was  a 
thorough  good  cleaner  and  hard  worker." 

"And  do  you  mean  that  you  would  go  as  a  servant, 
Miss  Xetta?  Why,  it  would  not  be  right  for  you  to 
do  so." 

"Anything  would  be  right  that  led  to  the  discovery 
of  Walter's  hiding  place,  Eoberts.  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  teaching,  and  I  have  helped  my  aunt  to  look 
after  the  house  for  years,  and  I  do  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  mind  playing  the  part  of  a  servant  for  a  short 
time,  in  order  to  try  and  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  matter. 
You  think  that  it  can  be  managed?  " 

"I  am  sure  it  can  be  managed  right  enough,  miss;  but 
what  Miss  Covington  would  say,  if  she  knew  that  T  had  *> 
hand  in  bringing  it  about,  I  can't  say." 


NETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  213 

"Well,  you  won't  be  drawn  into  the  matter,  i  shall 
gay  enough  to  my  aunt  to  satisfy  her  that  I  am  acting 
for  the  best,  and  shall  simply,  when  I  go,  leave  a  note  for 
your  mistress,  telling  her  that  I  have  gone  to  work  out 
an  idea  that  I  have  had  in  my  mind,  and  that  it  would 
be  no  use  for  her  to  inquire  into  the  matter  until  she 
hears  of  me  again." 

"What  am  I  to  tell  Andrew,  miss?" 

"  Simply  tell  him  that  a  young  woman  has  been  en- 
gaged to  watch  Simcoe  in  his  lodgings.  Then  tell  him 
the  story  he  has  to  tell  the  girl.  I  shall  want  three  or 
four  days  to  get  my  things  ready.  I  shall  have  to  go  to  a 
dressmaker's  and  tell  her  that  I  want  three  or  four  print 
gowns  for  a  young  servant  about  my  own  figure,  and  as 
soon  as  they  are  ready  I  shall  be  ready,  too." 

"  Well,  miss,  I  will  do  as  you  tell  me,  but  I  would  say, 
quite  respectful,  I  hope  that  you  will  bear  in  mind,  if 
things  goes  wrong,  that  I  was  dead  against  it,  and  that  it 
was  only  because  you  said  that  it  was  our  only  chance  of 
finding  Master  Walter  that  I  agreed  to  lend  a  hand." 

"  I  will  certainly  bear  that  in  mind,"  Netta  said  with  a 
smile.  "  Talk  it  over  with  Andrew  to-night;  but  remem- 
ber he  is  only  to  know  that  a  young  woman  has  been 
engaged  to  keep  a  watch  on  Simcoe." 

"  He  will  be  glad  enough  to  hear,  miss,  that  someone 
else  is  going  to  do  something.  He  says  the  Colonel  is  so 
irritable  because  he  has  found  out  so  little  that  there  is 
no  bearing  with  him." 

"The  Colonel  is  trying,"  Netta  laughed.  "As  you 
know,  he  comes  here  two  or  three  times  a  week  and  puts 
himself  into  such  rages  that,  as  he  stamps  up  and  down 
the  room,  I  expect  to  hear  a  crash  and  to  find  that  the 
dining-room  ceiling  has  fallen  down.  He  is  a  thoroughly 
kind-hearted  man,  but  is  a  dreadful  specimen  of  what  an 
English  gentleman  may  come  to  after  he  has  had  the 
command  of  an  Indian  regiment  for  some  years,  and  been 
accustomed  to  have  his  will  obeyed  in  everything.  It  is 
yery  bad  for  a  man." 

*  It  is  a  good  deal  worse  for  his  servant,  miss,"  Tom 


214  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

Roberts  said,  in  a  tone  of  deep  sympathy  for  Ms  comrade. 
"I  doubt  whether  I  could  have  stood  it  myself;  but 
though  Andrew  expresses  his  feelings  strong  sometimes, 
I  know  that  if  you  offered  him  a  good  place  even  in 
Buckingham  Palace,  he  would  not  leave  the  Colonel. 

Two  days  later  Netta  heard  that  the  girl  m  Jermyn 
Street  had  joyfully  accepted  the  offer,  and  had  that 
morning  told  her  master  that  she  had  heard  that  she 
was  wanted  badly  at  home,  and  that  a  cousin  of  hers 
would  be  up  in  a  day  or  two,  ana  would,  she  was  sure,  be 
very  glad  to  take  her  place.  The  master  agreed  to  give 
her  a  trial,  if  she  looked  a  clean  and  tidy  girl. 

« I  shall  be  clean  and  tidy,  Roberts;  and  I?am  sure  1 
shall  do  no  injustice  to  her  recommendation. 

Roberts  shook  his  head.  The  matter  was  to  his  mind, 
far  too  serious  to  be  joked  about,  and  he  almost  felt  as 
if  he  were  acting  in  a  treasonable  sort  of  way  m  aiding 
to  carry  out  such  a  project. 

On  the  following  Monday  Hilda,  on  coming  down  to 
breakfast,  found  a  note  on  the  table.  She  opened  it  in 
haste,  seeing  that  it  was  in  Netta's  handwriting,  and 
her  eyes  opened  in  surprise  and  almost  dismay  as  she 
read: 

"  My  Daeling  Hilda:  I  told  you  that  I  had  a  plan. 
Well,  I  am  off  to  carry  it  out.  It  is  of  no  use  your 
asking  what  it  is,  or  where  I  am  going.  You  will  hear 
nothing  of  me  until  I  return  to  tell  you  whether  I  have 
failed  or  succeeded.    Aunt  knows  what  I  am  going  to  do. 

Hilda  at  once  ran  upstairs  to  Miss  Purcell's  joom. 

-Where  has  Netta  gone?"  she  exclaimed,  Her 
letter  has  given  me  quite  a  turn.  She  says  that  you 
know;  but  I  feel  sure  that  it  is  something  very  foolish 

an<Ca  Thought  that  you  had  a  better  opinion  of  Netta's 
common  sense,"  Miss  Purcell  said  placidly,  smiling  a  little 
at  Hilda's  excitement.  "It  is  her  ar rangement,  dear 
and  not  mine,  and  I  am  certainly  not  at  liberty  to  give 


A  ETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  215 

you  any  information  about  it.  I  do  not  say  that  1  should 
not  have  opposed  it  in  the  first  instance,  had  I  known  of 
it,  but  I  certainly  cannot  say  that  there  is  anything  fool- 
ish in  it,  and  I  admit  that  it  seems  to  me  to  offer  a  better 
chance  of  success  than  any  plan  that  has  yet  been  tried. 
I  don't  think  there  is  any  occasion  for  anxiety  about  her. 
Netta  has  thought  over  her  plans  very  carefully,  and  has 
gone  to  work  in  a  methodical  way;  she  may  fail,  but  if 
so  I  don't  think  that  it  will  be  her  fault." 

"  But  why  could  she  not  tell  me  as  well  as  you?  "  Hilda 
asked  rather  indignantly. 

"  Possibly  because  she  did  not  wish  to  raise  hopes  that 
might  not  be  fulfilled;  but  principally,  I  own,  because 
she  thought  you  would  raise  objections  to  it,  and  she 
was  bent  upon  having  her  own  way.  She  has  seconded 
you  well,  my  dear,  all  through  this  business." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  aunt;  she  has  been  most  kind  in  every 
respect." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  then  don't  grudge  her  having  a  little 
plan  of  her  own." 

"  I  don't  grudge  her  a  bit,"  Hilda  said  impetuously, 
*  and,  as  you  are  quite  satisfied,  I  will  try  to  be  quite 
satisfied  too.  But,  you  see,  it  took  me  by  surprise;  and 
I  was  so  afraid  that  she  might  do  something  rash  and 
get  into  trouble  somehow.  You  know  really  I  am  quite 
afraid  of  this  man,  and  would  certainly  far  rather  run  a 
risk  nvyself  than  let  her  do  so." 

"  Of  that  I  have  no  doubt,  Hilda;  but  I  am  quite  sure 
that,  if  the  case  had  been  reversed,  you  would  have  under- 
taken this  little  plan  that  she  has  hit  upon,  to  endeavor 
to  relieve  her  of  a  terrible  anxiety,  just  as  she  is  doing 
for  you." 

"Well,  I  will  be  patient,  aunt.  How  long  do  you 
think  that  she  will  be  away?" 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you;  but  at  any  rate 
she  has  promised  to  write  me  a  line  at  least  twice  a  week, 
and,  should  I  think  it  right,  I  can  recall  her." 

"  That  is  something,  aunt.  You  cannot  gues?  whether 
it  is  likelv  to  be  a  week  or  a  month?  " 


2 If  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

Miss  Purcell  shook  her  head. 

"  It  will  all  depend  upon  whether  she  succeeds  y& 
hitting  upon  a  clew  as  to  where  Walter  is.  If  she  finds 
that  she  has  no  chance  of  so  doing  she  will  return;  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  she  thinks  that  there  is  a  probability 
that  with  patience  she  will  succeed,  she  will  continue  to 
watch  and  wait." 

"  Miss  Netta  is  not  ill,  I  hope,  miss  ?  "  Roberts  said, 
when  he  came  in  to  clear  the  breakfast  things  away. 

"No  she  has  gone  away  on  a  short  visit,"  Hilda  re- 
plied. Had  she  been  watching  the  old  soldier's  face,  she 
might  have  caught  a  slight  contortion  that  would  have 
enlightened  her  >as  to  the  fact  that  he  knew  more  than 
she  did  about  the  matter;  but  she  had  avoided  looking 
at  him,  lest  he  should  read  in  her  face  that  she  was  in 
ignorance  as  to  Netta's  whereabouts.  She  would  have 
liked  to  have  asked  when  she  went;  whether  she  took  a 
box  with  her,  and  whether  she  had  gone  early  that  morn- 
ing or  late  the  evening  before;  but  she  felt  that  any 
questions  of  the  sort  would  show  that  she  was  totally  in 
the  dark  as  to  her  friend's  movements.  In  fact  Netta 
had  walked  out  early  that  morning,  having  sent  off  a  box 
by  the  carrier  on  the  previous  Saturday  when  Hilda  was 
out;  Eoberts  having  himself  carried  it  to  the  receiving 
house. 

It  was  four  or  five  days  before  Dr.  Leeds  called 
again. 

"  Is  Miss  Purcell  out  ?  "  he  asked  carelessly,  when  some 
little  time  had  elapsed  without  her  making  her  ap- 
pearance. 

"Is  that  asked  innocently,  Dr.  Leeds?"  Hilda  said 
quickly. 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  in  genuine  surprise. 

"Innocently,  Miss  Covington?  I  don't  think  that  I 
quite  understand  you." 

"  I  see,  doctor,  that  I  have  been  in  error.  I  suspected 
you  of  being  an  accomplice  of  Netta's  in  a  little  scheme 
in  which  she  is  engaged  on  her  own  account."  And  she 
then  told  him  about  her  disappearance,  of  the  letter  that 


NETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY.  217 

she  had  received,  and  of  the  conversation  with  ner  aunt. 
Dr.  Leeds  was  seriously  disturbed. 

"  I  need  hardly  say  that  this  comes  as  a  perfect  sur- 
prise to  me,  Miss  Covington,  and  I  say  frankly  a  very 
unpleasant  one.  But  the  only  satisfactory  feature  is  that 
the  young's  lady  aunt  does  not  absolutely  disapprove  of 
the  scheme,  whatever  it  is,  although  it  is  evident  that  her 
approval  is  by  no  means  a  warm  one.  This  is  a  very 
serious  matter.  I  have  the  highest  opinion  of  your 
friend's  judgment  and  sense,  but  I  own  that  I  feel  ex- 
tremely uneasy  at  the  thought  that  she  has,  so  to  speak, 
pitted  herself  against  one  of  the  most  unscrupulous 
villains  I  have  ever  met,  whose  past  conduct  shows  that 
he  would  stop  at  nothing,  and  who  is  playing  for  a  very 
big  stake.  It  would  be  as  dangerous  to  interfere  between 
a  tiger  and  his  prey  as  to  endeavor  to  discover  the  secret 
on  which  so  much  depends." 

"  I  feel  that  myself,  doctor,  and  I  own  that  I'm  ex- 
ceedingly anxious.  Aunt  has  had  two  short  letters  from 
her.  Both  are  written  in  pencil,  but  the  envelope  is  in 
ink,  and  in  her  usual  handwriting.  I  should  think  it 
probable  that  she  took  with  her  several  directed  en- 
velopes. The  letters  are  very  short.  The  first  was:  'I 
am  getting  on  all  right,  aunt,  and  am  comfortable.  Too 
early  to  say  whether  I  am  likely  to  discover  anything. 
Pray  do  not  fidget  about  me,  nor  let  Hilda  do  so.  There 
is  nothing  to  be  uneasy  about.'  The  second  was  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  the  same  words,  except  that  she  said,  c  You 
and  Hilda  must  be  patient.  Rome  was  not  built  in  a 
day,  and  after  so  many  clever  people  have  failed  you  can- 
not expect  that  I  can  succeed  all  at  once.' " 

"  That  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes,"  the  doctor  said,  "  but 
you  see  it  does  not  go  very  far.  It  is  not  until  success 
is  nearly  reached  that  the  danger  will  really  begin.  I  do 
not  mind  saying  to  you  that  Miss  Purcell  is  very  dear 
to  me.  I  have  not  spoken  to  her  on  the  subject,  as  I 
wished  to  see  how  my  present  partnership  was  likely  to 
turn  out.  I  am  wholly  dependent  upon  my  profession, 
and  until  I  felt  my  ground  thoroughly  *  ^ermined  to 


218  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

remain  silent.  You  can  imagine,  therefore,  how  troubled 
I  am  at  your  news.  Were  it  not  that  I  have  such  implicit 
confidence  in  her  judgment  I  should  feel  it  still  more; 
but  even  as  it  is,  when  I  think  how  unscrupulous  and 
how  desperate  is  the  man  against  whom  she  has,  single- 
handed,  entered  the  lists,  I  cannot  but  be  alarmed." 

"  I  am  very  glad  at  what  you  have  told  me,  doctor.  I 
had  a  little  hope  that  it  might  be  so.  It  seemed  to  me 
impossible  that  you  could  be  living  for  four  months  with 
such  a  dear  girl  without  being  greatly  attracted  by  her. 
Of  course  I  know  nothing  of  her  feelings.  The  subject 
is  one  that  has  never  been  alluded  to  between  us,  but  I 
am  sure  that  no  girl  living  is  more  fitted  than  she  is  to 
be  the  wife  of  a  medical  man.  I  would  give  much  to 
have  Netta  back  again,  but  Miss  Purcell  is  obdurate.  She 
says  that,  knowing  as  she  does  what  Netta  is  doing,  she 
does  not  think  that  she  is  running  any  risk — at  any  rate, 
none  proportionate  to  the  importance  of  finding  a  clew 
to  Walter's  hiding  place." 

"  Will  you  ask  her  if  she  will  write  to  her  niece  and 
urge  her  to  return,  saying  how  anxious  you  are  about  her. 
Or,  if  she  will  not  do  that,  whether  she  will  release  her 
from  her  promise  of  secrecy,  so  that  she  may  let  us  know 
what  she  is  doing?  " 

"  I  will  go  and  ask  her  now;  I  will  bring  her  down  so 
that  you  can  add  your  entreaties  to  mine,  doctor." 

But  Miss  Purcell  refused  to  interfere. 

"  I  consider  Netta's  scheme  to  be  a  possible  one,"  she 
said,  "  though  I  am  certainly  doubtful  of  its  success. 
But  she  has  set  her  heart  upon  it,  and  I  will  do  nothing 
to  balk  her.  I  do  not  say  that  I  am  free  from  anxiety 
myself,  but  my  confidence  in  Netta's  cleverness,  and  I 
may  say  prudence,  is  such  that  I  believe  that  the  risk 
she  is  running  is  very  slight.  It  would  be  cruel,  and  I 
think  wrong  at  the  present  moment,  when  above  all 
things  it  is  necessary  that  her  brain  should  be  clear, 
to  distress  and  trouble  her  by  interfering  with  her 
actions." 

"Perhaps   you  are   right,  Miss   Purcell,"   the  doctor 


NETTA  ACTS  INDEPENDENTLY  219 

said  thoughtfully.  "Being  totally  in  the  dark  in  the 
matter,  I  am  not  justified  in  giving  a  decisive  opinion, 
but  I  will  admit  that  it  would  not  conduce  either  to  her 
comfort  or  to  the  success  of  her  undertaking  were  we 
to  harass  her  by  interfering  in  any  way  with  her  plan, 
which,  I  have  no  doubt,  has  been  thoroughly  thought 
out  before  she  undertook  it.  No  one  but  a  madman 
would  shout  instructions  or  warnings  to  a  person  per- 
forming a  dangerous  feat  requiring  coolness  and  presence 
of  mind.  Such,  I  take  it,  is  the  scheme,  whatever  it  is, 
in  which  she  is  engaged;  and  as  you  are  the  only  one 
who  knows  what  that  scheme  is,  I  must,  however  re- 
luctantly, abide  by  your  decision.  When  Miss  Coving- 
ton tells  you  the  conversation  that  we  have  had  together 
you  will  recognize  how  deeply  I  am  interested  in  the 
matter." 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

DOWX    IX    THE    MABSHES. 

Comparatively  few  of  those  who  nowadays  run  dowi, 
to  Southend  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  give  a  thought  to 
the  fact  that  the  wide  stretch  of  low  country  lying  be- 
tween the  railroad  and  the  Thames,  from  Pitsea  to  Leigh, 
was  at  one  time,  and  that  not  so  many  centuries  back,  a 
mud  flat,  a  continuation  of  the  great  line  of  sand  that 
still,  with  but  a  short  break  here  and  there,  stretches 
down  beyond  Yarmouth;  still  less  that,  were  it  not  for 
the  watchfulness  of  those  who  dwell  upon  it,  it  would  in 
a  short  time  revert  to  its  original  condition,  the  country 
lying  below  the  level  of  higher  water. 

Along  the  whole  face  of  the  river  run  banks — the 
work,  doubtless,  of  engineers  brought  over  by  Dutch 
"William — strong,  massive,  and  stone-faced,  as  they  need 
be  to  withstand  the  rush  and  fret  of  the  tide  and  the 
action  of  the  waves  when,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  east 
wind  knocks  up  ridges  of  short,  angry  water  in  Sea  Reach. 
Similar!}^,  the  winding  creeks  are  all  embanked,  but  here 
dams  of  earth  are  sufficient  to  retain  within  its  bounds 
the  sluggish  water  as  it  rises  and  falls.  Standing  on  any 
of  these,  the  farmhouses  and  little  homesteads  lie  below, 
their  eaves  for  the  most  part  level  with  the  top  of  the 
bank,  though  there  are  a  few  knolls  which  rise  above  the 
level  of  the  tidal  water. 

The  most  conspicuous  objects  are  the  brown  sails  of 
the  barges,  which  seem  to  stand  up  in  the  midst  of  the 
brownish-green  fields,  the  hulls  being  invisible.  This 
cannot  be  called  marsh  land,  for  the  ground  is  intersected 
by  ditches,  having  sluices  through  which  they  discharge 
their  water  at  lo™  tide.    Very  fertile  is  the  land  *n  cn*r\e. 


DOWN  IN  TEE  MARSHES  J21 

spots,  notably  in  Canvey  Island,  where  there  are  great 
stretches  of  wheat  and  broad  meadows  deep  with  rich 
waving  grass;  but  there  are  other  places  where  the  grass 
is  brown  and  coarse,  showing  that,  though  the  surface 
may  be  hard  and  dry,  water  lies  not  far  below.  Here  a 
few  cattle  gather  a  scanty  living,  and  the  little  home- 
steads are  few  and  far  between.  Most  of  the  houses  are 
placed  near  the  banks  of  the  creeks.  The  barges  serve  as 
their  wagons,  and  carry  their  hay  up  to  London  and 
bring  down  manure  and  other  things  required,  or  carry 
coal  and  lime  to  the  wharves  of  Pitsea. 

A  rare  place  was  this  in  the  old  smuggling  days,  and 
indeed  until  quite  lately  the  trade  was  carried  on,  though 
upon  a  reduced  scale.  Vessels  drifting  slowly  up  the 
river  would  show  a  light  as  they  passed  a  barge  at  anchor 
or  a  bawley  hanging  to  its  trawl,  a  light  would  be  shown 
in  answer,  and  a  moment  later  a  boat  would  row  off  to 
the  ship,  and  a  score  of  tubs  or  a  dozen  bales  of  tobacco 
be  quiekly  transferred,  and  before  morning  the  contents 
would  be  stowed  in  underground  cellars  in  some  of  the 
little  farmhouses  on  the  creeks,  or  be  hidden  away  in  the 
Leigh  marshes. 

"Will  Bill  be  in  to-night  with  the  barge?"  a  child 
asked  a  woman,  as  he  came  down  from  the  bank  to  a 
not  uncomfortable-looking  homestead  ten  yards  from  its 
foot. 

"  I  told  you  that  you  are  to  call  him  uncle,"  the  woman: 
said  sharply,  but  not  unkindly.  "  I  have  told  you  so  over 
and  over  again,  child."  I 

"  I  generally  do  now,  but  one  forgets  sometimes." 

"  There  is  never  any  saying  " — the  woman  went  on  in 
reply  to  his  question — "there  is  never  any  saying;  it  all 
depends  on  tide  and  wind.  Sometimes  they  have  to 
anchor  and  lose  a  tide,  or  maybe  two.  Sometimes  they 
get  a  cargo  directly  they  get  into  the  Pool  or  at  Roches- 
ter; sometimes  they  wait  two  or  three  days.  They  have 
been  away  four  days  now;  they  might  have  been  here 
yesterday,  but  may  not  come  till  to-morrow.  One  thing 
is  certain,  whenever  he  do  come  he  will  want  something 


222  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

to  eat,  and  I  hope  that  they  will  bring  it  with  them,  for 
there  is  nothing  here  but  bread  and  bacon." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  I  shall  soon  go  home  again, 
aunt?" 

"  There  is  no  saying,"  the  woman  said  evasively.  "  You 
are  very  comfortable  here,  aint  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  There  are  the  dogs  and  the  ducks  and  the 
chickens,  and  uncle  says  that  he  will  take  me  sometimes 
for  a  sail  with  him  in  the  barge." 

"Yes,  I  expect  it  won't  be  long  first.  You  know,  I 
used  to  go  with  him  regular  till,  as  I  have  told  you,  my 
little  Billy  fell  overboard  one  night,  and  we  knew  noth- 
ing of  it  until  he  was  gone,  and  I  have  never  liked  the 
barge  since.  Besides,  I  have  plenty  to  do  here.  But  I 
am  going  across  to  Bochester  very  soon.  It's  a  good 
place  for  shopping,  and  I  want  groceries  and  little  things 
for  myself  and  more  things  for  you.  I  will  take  you 
with  me,  but  you  will  have  to  promise  to  be  very  good 
and  careful." 

"  I  will  be  careful,"  the  child  said  confidently,  "  and 
you  know  that  uncle  said  that  when  spring  comes  he  will 
teach  me  to  swim;  and  I  shall  like  that,  and  if  I  tumble 
overboard  it  won't  matter.  He  says  that  when  I  get  a 
few  years  older  I  shall  go  with  him  regularly,  and  learn 
to  steer  and  to  manage  the  sails.  I  shall  like  that;  but  I 
should  like  to  go  back  sometimes  to  see  Hilda  and  Netta 
and  my  grandpapa." 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear,  we  will  see  about  it;  they  can't 
take  you  at  present.  I  think  that  they  have  gone  away 
traveling,  and  may  not  be  back  for  a  long  time.  And 
mind,  you  know  you  are  not  to  talk  about  them.  Just 
when  you  are  here  with  me  I  don't  care;  but  you  know 
uncle  does  not  like  it,  and  if  anyone  asks,  you  must  say 
just  what  he  told  you,  that  your  father  and  mother  are 
dead,  and  that  Uncle  Bill  has  took  you." 

"  I  shan't  forget,"  the  boy  said.  "  I  never  do  talk  about 
it  before  him;  it  makes  him  angry.  I  don't  know  why. 
but  it  does." 

"But  he  is  always  kind  to  you,  Jack? " 


DOWN  IN  THE  MARSHES.  223 

*0h,  yes,  he  is  very  kind,  and  he  often  brings  me 
things  when  he  comes  back;  he  brought  me  my  dear  lit- 
tle kitten.  Pussy,  where  have  you  hidden  yourself? 
Puss!  puss! "  And  in  answer  a  little  ball  of  white  fur 
bounded  out  from  behind  a  chair,  and  the  child  was  soon 
engaged  in  a  game  of  romps  with  it. 

"  It  is  a  shame!  "  the  woman  said,  as  she  watched  them; 
"I  don't  mind  the  other  things,  but  I  never  liked  this. 
I  wonder  who  the  poor  little  chap  is.  By  the  way  he 
talked  when  he  first  came,  about  his  home  and  his  nurse 
and  horses  and  carriages,  his  friends  must  be  rich  people. 
Bill  has  never  understood  why  they  wanted  to  get  rid  of 
him;  but  I  suppose  that  he  was  in  somebody's  way,  and, 
as  he  never  speaks  of  his  father  and  mother,  but  only  of 
those  two  girls  and  his  grandfather,  who  seems  to  have 
been  an  invalid,  I  expect  that  he  must  have  lost  his  father 
and  mother  before  he  can  remember.  Well,  he  will  be 
right  enough  here;  I  should  miss  him  dreadful  if  he  were 
to  go  away;  he  seems  to  have  taken  the  place  of  my  little 
Billy.  And  Bill  takes  to  him,  too,  wonderfully.  He  said 
the  other  day  that  when  the  boy  grew  up  he  would  buy  a 
barge,  a  new  one  of  the  best  kind,  and  that  some  day 
it  should  be  the  boy's  own.  So  he  won't  do  so  bad,  after 
all." 

A  stranger  would  have  wondered  at  the  comfort  in  the 
interior  of  the  little  farmhouse.  The  land  round  it  was 
.very  poor.  Three  horses — which  seemed  as  if  they  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  nibble  the  coarse  grass — and  a 
couple  of  cows  wandered  about  on  a  few  acres  of  land,  in- 
closed by  deep  water  ditches;  a  score  or  two  of  ducks  and 
geese  paddled  in  the  mud  in  the  bottom  of  the  creek  at 
low  tide,  or  swam  about  in  the  water  when  it  was  up; 
and  a  patch  of  garden  ground,  attended  to  chiefly  by  the 
woman,  surrounded  the  cottage.  But  all  this  would  have 
afforded  a  scanty  living  indeed,  were  it  not  that  the 
master,  Bill  Nibson,  was  the  owner  of  the  Mary  Ann 
barge,  an  old  craft  with  a  somewhat  dilapidated  sail, 
which  journeyed  up  and  down  the  river  with  more  or  less 
regularity,  laden,  for  the  most  part,  with  manure,  hay, 


224  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

lime,  bricks,  or  coal.  This  he  navigated  with  the  aid  of  a 
lad  of  fourteen,  a  waif,  whose  mother,  a  tramp,  had  died 
by  the  roadside  one  bitter  cold  night  four  years  before. 
Bill  had  been  summoned  on  the  coroner's  jury  and  had 
offered  to  take  the  boy. 

"  I  can  do  with  him  on  board  the  barge,"  he  said;  "  he 
is  only  a  little  nipper  now,  but  in  a  year  or  two  he  will 
be  useful.  The  boy  I  have  got  wants  to  go  to  sea,  and  I 
shan't  be  sorry  to  get  rid  of  him;  he  is  getting  too  know- 
ing for  me  altogether." 

As  no  one  else  wanted  the  boy  he  was  handed  over 
to  Bill,  and  was  now  a  sharp  lad,  who,  never  having  been 
instructed  in  the  niceties  of  right  and  wrong,  and  being 
especially  ignorant  that  there  was  any  harm  in  cheating 
Her  Majesty's  Customs,  was  in  all  things  a  useful 
assistant  to  his  master.  He  had,  indeed,  very  soon 
imbibed  the  spirit,  not  uncommon  among  the  dwellers 
on  the  marshes,  that  if  managed  without  detection,  the 
smuggling  of  tobacco  and  spirits  was  a  meritorious 
action,  advantageous  to  the  community  at  large,  and 
hurting  no  one  except  that  mysterious  and  unknown 
entitv,  the  queen's  revenue.  He  was  greatly  attached 
to  Bill,  and  took  an  occasional  thrashing  as  a  matter  of 
course;  regarding  him  as  having  saved  him  from  the  work- 
house and  having  put  him  in  a  fair  way  of  making  a  man 
of  himself. 

The  next  day  at  twelve  o'clock  the  child,  playing 
on  the  bank,  ran  in  and  reported  that  Joshua  was 
coming  along  the  bank,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  boy 
appeared. 

"Morning,  missis,"  he  said.  "Master  sent  me  on  to 
say  that  the  barge  got  into  the  haven  this  morning,  and 
that  she  will  come  on  with  the  evening  tide.  He  sent 
me  on  with  this  lump  of  meat,  and  these  rokers  he  got 
from  a  bawley  which  came  in  just  as  we  were  getting  up 
sail  off  Grain  Spit.  He  says  he  has  got  a  barrel  of  beer 
on  board,  that  he  will  land  as  he  passes.  He  will  be  along 
about  nine  o'clock.    Well,  Jack,  how  are  you?  " 

"  I  am  all  right,"  the  child  said,  *  and  so  is  Kitty-    T 


DOWN  AY  THE  MABSEES. 

am  dad  that  you  are  back.  How  long  are  you  going  to 
stay?" 

"  I  suppose  that  it  will  take  us  a  couple  of  days  to  un- 
load. Master  is  going  as  usual  to  hire  a  couple  of  men  to 
get  the  line  out,  so  I  shall  be  over  here  by  breakfast.  He 
says  that  I  may  as  well  do  a  job  of  digging  in  the  garden, 
as  he  wants  to  get  some  things  in  before  we  get  frosty 
nights.    Have  you  any  message  for  him,  missis?" 

"  You  can  tell  him  he  may  as  well  get  a  dish  of  eels 
from  one  of  the  Dutchmen  there.  I  suppose  there  is  one 
in  the  haven?  " 

"  Two  of  them,  missis;  he  will  be  able  to  get  them,  for 
one  of  them  is  the  Harden,  and  the  skipper  has  always 
let* master  have  some,  though  he  won't  sell  an  eel  to  any- 
one else." 

"  Is  there  any  business  to  be  done?  "  the  woman  asked 
significantly. 

The  boy  nodded. 

"  All  right;  tell  him  that  I  will  get  the  horses  in." 

The  child  was  put  to  bed  upstairs  at  seven  o'clock, 
although  he  in  vain  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  stop  up 
until  the  barge  came  along.  He  already  knew,  however, 
by  experience,  that  his  request  was  not  likely  to  be 
granted,  as  when  the  barge  came  along  after  dark  he  was 
always  put  to  bed,  the  woman  telling  him  that  Bill  didn't 
like  him  to  be  up  when  he  came  in,  as  he  wanted  to  have 
a  talk  with  her  in  quiet,  and  to  eat  his  supper  in  peace. 

An  hour  after  dark  the  woman  went  out  onto  the  bank 
and  listened.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  heard  the  rattle 
of  a  block  in  the  distance.  She  went  down,  stirred  up 
the  fire,  and  put  on  the  kettle,  and  in  twenty  minutes  the 
barge  came  along.  The  boat,  instead  of  towing  behind 
as  usual,  was  alongside. 

"  You  take  her  on,  Joshua,"  its  owner  said,  as  he 
quietly  got  into  the  boat;  "  run  in  where  the  water  is 
deep  alongside,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  this  side  Pitsea.  I 
will  come  along  and  get  on  board  there  as  soon  as  I  have 
finished  this  job.  Keep  a  sharp  lookout  on  the  banks; 
some  c*  the  coastguardsmen  may  be  about.    J*  they  hail 


226  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

you  and  ask  if  I  am  on  board,  say  I  landed  as  we  passed 
here,  to  have  a  cup  of  tea,  and  that  I  shall  not  be  five 
minutes." 

Then  he  pushed  the  boat  to  shore.  "  Well,  Betsy,  how 
are  you?  I  have  got  twenty  kegs  here,  and  five  or  six 
hundredweight  of  tobacco.  I  will  get  it  up  the  bank, 
and  you  had  better  stow  it  away  at  once;  I  will  lend  you  a 
hand  as  soon  as  it  is  all  up," 

As  fast  as  he  could  carry  the  kegs  up  the  banks  she 
slipped  slings  round  them,  two  at  a  time,  hooked  them 
to  a  milkmaid's  yoke,  and  went  off  with  them  to  a  shed 
which  served  as  a  stable  and  cowhouse  in  the  winter. 
Against  this  was  a  rick  of  hay.  Putting  the  kegs  down 
she  returned  for  more,  and  by  the  time  that  they  were 
all  in  the  stable  her  husband  had  finished  his  share  of 
the  work  and  had  carried  the  heavy  bales  of  tobacco  to 
the  shed.    The  three  horses  were  already  there. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  them  out  at  once  ?  " 

"  No,  not  until  I  come  back.  I  must  get  on  board  the 
barge  as  soon  as  possible.  We  will  bundle  them  all  in,  in 
case  any  of  those  fellows  should  come  along." 

Three  planks  were  removed  from  the  side  of  the  shed 
next  to  the  stack,  and  an  opening  was  seen.  Some  turf 
was  taken  up  and  a  trapdoor  exposed.  The  kegs  and 
tobacco  were  speedily  carried  down  into  a  large  cellar, 
the  trapdoor  was  closed,  and  the  boards  placed  securely 
in  position  and  fastened  by  six  long  screws.  Then  they 
returned  to  the  house.  The  teapot  and  cups  were  on  the 
table,  the  kettle  was  boiling,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes 
they  were  taking  tea.  Scarcely  had  they  begun  their 
meal  when  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Bill  got  up 
and  opened  it,  and  two  coastguards  entered. 

"  We  saw  there  was  a  light  burning,  and  thought  that 
you  might  be  here,  Bill.    The  wind  is  bitter  cold." 

"  Come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  or  a  glass  of  rum, 
whichever  you  like  best.  As  you  say,  the  wind  is  bitter 
cold,  and  I  thought  that  I  would  land  and  have  a  cup 
of  tea.  I  shall  catch  the  barge  up  before  she  sets  to 
Pitsea." 


DOWN  IN  THE  MARSHES.  227 

The  coastguardsmen  accepted  the  offer  of  a  cup  of  tea, 
glancing  furtively  round  the  room  as  they  drank  it. 

"  It  is  good  tea." 

"  'Tis  that,"  Bill  said,  "  and  it  has  never  paid  duty.  I 
got  it  from  an  Indiaman  that  was  on  the  Nore  three  weeks 
ago.  She  transshipped  part  of  her  cargo  on  my  barge  and 
floated  next  tide.  It  was  one  of  the  best  jobs  I've  had  for 
some  time,  and  stood  me  in  fifty  pounds  and  a  pound  or 
two  of  tea." 

"Perhaps  a  chest  of  it!"  one  of  the  men  said  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Well,  well,  I  am  not  sure  that  it  was  not  a  chest. 
I  like  my  cup  of  tea,  and  so  does  Betsy;  and  there  is  no 
getting  tea  like  this  at  Stanford." 

They  chatted  for  about  ten  minutes,  when  Bill  re- 
marked, "  I  must  be  going,"  and  they  went  out  together, 
and  taking  his  place  in  his  boat  he  rowed  up  the  creek, 
while  the  coastguards  continued  their  walk  along  the 
bank. 

"  He  is  not  a  bad  'un,  Tom,"  one  of  them  said.  "  I 
guess  he  is  like  a  good  many  of  the  others,  runs  a  keg 
occasionally.  However,  his  place  has  been  searched  half 
a  dozen  times,  and  nothing  has  been  found.  We  have 
drunk  many  a  glass  of  ale  with  him  at  the  '  Lobster 
Smack '  at  Hole  Haven,  and  I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to 
catch  him  unless  there  is  some  information  to  go  on. 
The  barge  passed  us  half  an  hour  ago,  and  I  knew  that 
it  was  no  use  looking  in  her,  but  of  course  when  the 
boatswain  said  this  afternoon,  *  Just  follow  that  barge 
when  she  gets  under  way,  and  see  if  she  goes  on  to  Pitsea/ 
we  had  to  do  it;  but  the  boat  was  late  for  us  where  the 
creek  branches  off  round  the  island,  and  before  we  were 
across  he  must  have  got  more  than  half  an  hour's  start 
of  us.  And  I  am  not  sorry,  Tom.  We  have  got  to  do 
our  duty,  but  we  don't  want  to  be  at  war  with  every  good 
fellow  on  the  marshes." 

"  Right  you  are,  Dick;  besides,  they  are  as  slippery  as 
eels.  Who  can  tell  what  they  have  got  under  their  iime 
or  manure?    Short  of  unloading  it  to  the  bottom  there 


228  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

would  be  no  finding  it,  if  they  had  anything;  and  is  Is  a 
job  that  I  should  not  care  for.  Besides,  there  aint  no 
place  to  empty  it  on;  and  we  could  not  go  and  chuck  a 
cargo  overboard  unless  we  were  quite  certain  that  we 
should  find  something  underneath.  As  you  say,  I  dare 
say  Bill  runs  a  keg  or  two  now  and  then,  but  I  don't  sup- 
pose that  he  is  worse  than  his  neighbors;  I  have  always 
suspected  that  it  was  he  who  left  a  keg  of  whisky  at  our 
door  last  Christmas." 

In  the  meantime  Bill  had  overtaken  his  barge,  and  they 
soon  had  her  alongside  of  the  little  wharf  at  Pitsea. 

"  Tide  is  just  turning.  She  will  be  aground  in  half  an 
hour,"  he  said.  "  As  soon  as  you  have  got  these  moor- 
ing ropes  fastened,  you  had  better  fry  that  steak  and 
have  your  supper.  I  shall  be  over  by  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  If  Harvey  and  Wilson  come  alongside  be- 
fore that,  tell  them  they  can  have  the  job  at  the  usual 
price,  and  can  set  to  work  without  waiting  for  me.  It 
will  be  pretty  late  before  I  am  in  bed  to-night." 

It  was  over  a  mile  walk  back  to  his  cottage.  As  soon 
as  he  arrived  he  sat  down  to  a  hearty  supper  which  his 
wife  had  prepared  for  him.  He  then  got  three  pack- 
saddles  out  of  the  cellar,  put  them  on  the  horses,  and 
fastened  four  kegs  on  each  horse.  Tying  one  behind  the 
other,  he  started,  and  in  an  hour  the  kegs  were  stowed  in 
the  cellars  of  four  farmers  near  Stanford.  It  was  mid- 
night before  he  returned  home.  At  halfpast  six  he  was 
down  to  breakfast. 

"Well,  uncle,  how  are  you?"  he  asked  the  child,  who 
was  already  up. 

"  I  am  not  your  uncle,"  the  boy  replied;  "  you  are  my 
uncle." 

"  Ah,  well,  it's  a  way  of  speaking  down  here.  It  does 
not  mean  that  anyone  is  one's  uncle;  it  is  just  a  way  of 
speaking." 

The  child  nodded.    He  was  learning  many  things. 

<cThen  it  is  a  way  of  speaking  when  I  call  you 
xmcle?" 

"  No,  no!    That  is  different.    A  child  like  you  would 


DOWN  IN  THE  MARSHES.  229 

not  call  anyone  uncle  unless  he  was  uncle;  while  a  man. 
my  age  calls  anyone  uncle." 

"That  is  funny,  isn't  it?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose,  when  you  think  of  it,  it  is;  but,  as 
I  said,  it  is  a  way  we  have  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
Well,  mother,  have  you  got  that  fish  nearly  fried?  " 

"  It  will  be  ready  in  five  minutes.  This  roker  is  a  very 
thick  one.'  I  put  it  on  as  soon  as  I  heard  you  stirring, 
and  it  is  not  quite  ready  yet.  That  was  a  pretty  near 
escape  last  night,  Bill." 

"  Yes;  but,  you  see,  they  can  hardly  catch  us  unless 
they  send  men  down  in  the  afternoon.  They  cannot  get 
along  from  the  station  without  passing  two  or  three 
creeks;  and  coming  along  with  the  tide,  especially  when 
there  is  a  breath  of  wind  to  help  her,  we  can  do  it  in  half 
the  time.  You  see,  I  always  get  the  things  out  from 
under  the  cargo  and  into  the  boat  as  we  come  along,  so 
that  the  barge  shall  not  be  stopped." 

"  But  they  might  send  down  a  boat  from  the  Thames 
Haven  station,  Bill." 

"  Yes;  but  then  they  don't  know  when  the  barge  is  in, 
or  when  it  is  going  to  start.  So  we  get  the  best  of  them 
in  that  way.  Besides,  they  have  a  good  bit  to  go  along 
the  river  face,  and  they  have  to  cross  a  dozen  deep  cuts 
to  get  there.  No,  I  have  no  fear  of  them,  nor  of  the 
others  either,  as  far  as  that  goes.  I  have  more  than  once 
had  a  word  dropped,  meant  to  put  me  on  my  guard,  and 
instead  of  landing  the  things  here  have  dropped  them  in  a 
deep  hole  in  the  creek,  where  I  could  pick  them  up  the 
next  night  I  came  in.  Things  have  changed  with  us  for 
the  better,  lass.  Five  years  ago  we  had  pretty  hard  work, 
with  the  farm  and  the  old  boat,  to  live  at  all  comfortable; 
but  since  I  have  got  into  the  swim  things  have  changed 
with  us,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  I  am  making  money  hand 
over  fist.  I  allow  that  there  is  a  certain  risk  in  it,  but, 
after  all,  one  likes  it  all  the  better  for  that.  If  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst  they  could  but  confiscate  the  old  barge; 
if  they  gave  me  a  heavy  fine  I  could  pay  it,  and  if  they 
gave  me  six  months  I  could  work  it  out,  and  bu^r  a  new 


231  THE  LOST  HEIR 

barge  and  half  a  dozen  farms  like  this  on  the  day  I  came 
out." 

"  But  the  other  would  be  more  serious,  Bill?  " 

"  Well,  yes;  but  I  don't  see  any  chance  of  that  being 
found  out.  A  gent  comes  to  me  at  a  spot  we  have  settled 
on,  say  on  the  road  halfway  between  Pitsea  and  Stanford; 
he  hands  me  a  box,  sometimes  two;  I  puts  them  on  one 
of  the  horses,  and  rides  over  here  with  them;  then  I  stows 
them  away  in  that  secret  place  off  the  store,  where  there 
aint  a  shadow  of  a  chance  of  the  sharpest-eyed  coast- 
guardsman  ever  finding  them.  They  would  be  too  de- 
lighted to  light  on  the  spirits  and  bacca  to  think  of 
digging  up  the  floor  underneath.  There  they  lie,  till  I 
take  them  down  to  the  Harden.  They  put  them  into  the 
eel  tank,  and  next  morning  off  she  sails." 

"  But  you  have  had  heavy  cases  brought  once  or 
twice?" 

"  Only  once — heavy  enough  to  be  troublesome.  Ten 
cases  there  was  then,  each  as  heavy  as  a  man  could  lift. 
It  took  me  three  journeys  with  three  horses,  and  I  had 
to  dig  a  big  hole  in  the  garden  tc  bury  them  till  the 
Mar  den  had  got  rid  of  her  eels,  and  was  ready  to  sail 
again.  Yes,  that  was  a  heavy  job,  and  I  got  a  couple  of 
hundred  pounds  for  my  share  of  the  business.  I  should 
not  mind  having  such  a  job  twice  a  week.  A  few  months 
of  that,  and  I  could  buy  the  biggest  farm  on  this  side  of 
Essex — that  is  to  say,  if  I  could  make  up  my  mind  to  cut 
it  and  settle  down  as  a  farmer." 

"You  will  never  do  that,  Bill;  but  you  might  settle 
down  in  Rochester,  and  buy  half  a  dozen  barges,  with 
a  tip-top  one  you  would  sail  yourself.  You  might  have 
a  couple  of  men  and  a  cabin  forward,  and  a  nice  roomy 
place  for  yourself  and  me  aft:  and  you  could  just  steer 
when  you  -liked,  or  sit  down  and  smoke  your  pipe  and 
watch  her  going  through  the  fleet  as  we  worked  through 
the  swatchway.  That  would  be  more  your  sort,  Bill,  and 
mine  too.  I  know  you  have  money  enough  laid  by  to  get 
such  a  barge." 

"  That  is  so.  Betsy.     I  allow  that  I  could  do  that.    I 


DOWN  IN  THE  MARSHES.  231 

have  been  thinking  of  it  for  some  time,  but  somehow  or 
other  one  never  works  one's  self  up  to  the  right  point  to 
give  it  all  up  of  a  sudden  and  cut  the  old  place.  Well, 
I  suppose  one  of  these  days  I  shall  do  it,  if  it  is  only  to 
please  you." 

"  It  would  please  me,  you  know,  Bill.  I  don't  see  no 
harm  in  running  the  kegs  or  the  bacca — it's  what  the 
people  about  here  have  been  doing  for  hundreds  of  years 
—but  I  don't  like  this  other  business.  You  don't  know 
what  is  in  the  cases,  and  you  don't  ask,  but  there  aint 
much  difficulty  in  guessing.  And  I  don't  much  like  this 
business  of  the  child.  I  did  not  like  it  at  all  at  first;  but 
when  I  found  that  he  had  no  father  nor  mother  as  he 
knew  of,  and  so  it  was  certain  that  no  one  was  breaking 
their  heart  about  him,  I  did  not  mind  it;  and  I  have 
taken  to  him,  and  he  has  pretty  nearly  forgotten  about 
his  home,  and  is  as  contented  as  if  he  had  been  here  all 
his  life.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  about  him,  though 
it  is  as  certain  as  eggs  is  eggs  that  it  has  been  a  bad  busi- 
ness. The  boy  has  been  cheated  out  of  his  money,  and 
if  his  friends  ever  find  him  it  is  a  nice  row  that  we  shall 
get  into." 

"  You  need  not  bother  yourself  about  that,"  the  man 
said;  "  he  aint  more  likely  to  be  found  here  than  if  he 
was  across  the  seas  in  Ameriky.  We  have  had  him  near 
nine  months  now,  and  in  another  three  months,  if  you 
were  to  put  him  down  in  front  of  his  own  house,  he  would 
not  know  it.  Everyone  about  here  believes  as  he  is  my 
nevvy,  the  son  of  a  brother  of  yours  who  died  down  in 
the  Midlands,  and  left  him  motherless.  No  one  asks  any 
questions  about  him  now,  no  more  than  they  does  about 
Joshua.  No,  no;  we  are  all  right  there,  missis;  and  the 
hundred  pounds  that  we  had  down  with  him,  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year  till  he  gets  big  enough  to  ear-n  his  own 
grub  on  the  barge,  all  helps.  Anyhow,  if  something 
should  happen  to  me  before  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
quit  this,  you  know  where  the  pot  of  money  is  hidden. 
You  can  settle  in  Eochester,  and  get  him  some  schooling, 
and   then  apprentice  him  to  a  barge-owner  and  start 


28i>  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

him  with  a  fearge  of  his  own  as  soon  as  he  is  out  of  his 
time.  You  bear  it  in  mind  that  is  what  I  should  like 
done." 

"  I  will  mind,"  she  said  quietly;  "  but  I  am  as  likely 
to  be  carried  to  the  churchyard  as  you  are,  and  you  re- 
member what  I  should  like,  and  try,  Bill,  if  you  give  up 
the  water  yourself,  to  see  that  he  is  with  a  man  as  doesn't 
drink.  Most  of  the  things  we  hears  of — of  barges  being 
run  down,  and  of  men  falling  overboard  on  a  dark  night 
— are  just  drink,  and  nothing  else.  You  are  not  a  man 
as  drinks  yourself;  you  take  your  glass  when  the  barge 
is  in  the  creek,  but  I  have  never  seen  you  the  worse  for 
liquor  since  yen  courted  me  fifteen  years  ago,  and  I  tell 
yon  there  is  not  a  night  when  you  are  out  on  the  barge 
as  I  don't  thank  God  that  it  is  so.  I  says  to  myself,  when 
the  wind  is  blowing  on  a  dark  night,  '  He  is  anchored 
somewheres  under  a  weather  shore,  and  he  is  snug  asleep 
in  his  cabin.  There  is  no  fear  of  his  driving  along 
through  it  and  carrying  on  sail;  there  is  no  fear  of  his 
stumbling  as  he  goes  forward  and  pitching  over ';  and  no 
one  but  myself  knows  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me.  You 
bring  him  up  in  the  same  way,  Bill.  You  teach  him  as 
it  is  always  a  good  thing  to  keep  from  liquor,  though 
a  pint  with  an  old  mate  aint  neither  here  nor  there,  but 
that  he  might  almost  as  well  take  poison  as  to  drink  down 
in  the  cabin." 

"I  will  mind,  missis;  I  like  the  child,  and  have  got  it 
in  my  mind  to  bring  him  up  straight,  so  let  us  have  no 
more  words  about  it." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A   PARTIAL   SUCCESS. 

Netta  had  been  away  three  weeks  when  one  morning1, 
just  as  they  were  sitting  down  to  breakfast,  she  suddenly 
came  into  the  room.  With  a  cry  of  joy  Hilda  ran  into  her 
arms. 

"You  wicked,  wicked  girl!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  know 
that  I  ought  not  to  speak  to  you.  You  don't  deserve  that 
I  should  even  look  at  you,  but  I  cannot  help  it." 

Miss  Purcell  embraced  her  niece  more  soberly,  but 
Hilda  saw  by  the  expression  of  her  face  that  her  niece's 
return  relieved  her  of  a  burden  of  anxiety  which  at  times 
she  had  had  difficulty  in  concealing. 

"  In  the  first  place,  Netta,  before  I  even  give  }*ou  a 
cup  of  tea,  tell  me  if  this  is  a  final  return,  or  whether 
you  are  going  to  disappear  again." 

"That  we  will  decide  after  you  have  heard  my  story," 
Netta  said  quietly. 

"And  have  you  got  any  news  of  Walter?" 

"  I  am  not  sure;  I  think  so.  So  you  have  kept  ;.  ; 
secret,  aunt  ?  " 

"I  promised  that  I  would,  dear,  and  of  course  I  hava 
kept  my  word,  though  it  was  very  difficult  to  resist 
Hilda's  pleading.  Dr.  Leeds,  too,  has  been  terri*jlv 
anxious  about  you,  and  not  a  day  has  passed  that  ho 
has  not  run  in  for  a  few  minutes  to  learn  if  there  was 
any  news." 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  should  have  known  that  I  hava 
been  away." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  Hilda  said,  "coming  here  as  often 
as  he  does,  he  naturally  in  quired  where  you  were,  and 
as  I  was  uncertain  how  long  you  would  be  away,  and  a? 
be  had  always  been  in  our  counsels,  I  could  hardly  keep 

233 


234  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

him  in  the  dark,  even  had  I  wished  to  da  so.  .Now,  my 
dear,  let  us  know  all  about  it;  there  can  be  no  possible 
reason  for  keeping  silent  any  longer." 

"Well,  Hilda,  the  whole  affair  has  been  very  simple, 
and  there  was  not  the  least  occasion  for  being  anxious. 
I  simply  wanted  to  keep  it  quiet  because  I  felt  that  you 
would  raise  all  sorts  of  objections  to  the  plan.  We  had, 
as  you  know,  thought  over  a  great  many  methods  by 
which  we  might  overhear  a  conversation  between  John 
Simcoe  and  the  man  on  Pentonville  Hill.  But  it  seemed 
next  to  be  impossible  that  it  could  be  managed  there. 
Suddenly  the  idea  came  into  my  brain  that,  as  a  servant 
at  Simcoe's  lodgings  in  Jermyn  Street,  I  might  have  an 
excellent  chance." 

Hilda  gave  an  exclamation  of  horror. 
"  My  dear  Netta,  you  never  can  really  have  thought  of 
carrying  this  out  ?  " 

"I  not  only  thought  of  it,  but  did  it.  With  a  little 
management  the  girl  there  was  got  hold  of,  and  as  it 
fortunately  happened  that  she  did  not  like  London  and 
wanted  to  take  a  country  situation,  there  was  very  little 
difficulty,  and  she  agreed  to  introduce  me  as  a  friend 
who  was  willing  to  take  her  place.  Of  course,  it  took  a 
few  days  to  make  all  the  arrangements  and  to  get  suitable 
clothes  for  the  place,  and  these  I  sent  by  parcel  delivery, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  day  that  the  girl  was  to  leave 
presented  myself  at  the  house.  The  man  and  his  wife 
were  good  enough  to  approve  of  my  appearance.  They 
had,  it  seemed,  three  sets  of  lodgers,  one  on  each  floor; 
the  man  himself  waited  upon  them,  and  my  work  was  to 
do  their  rooms  and  keep  the  house  tidy  generally." 
Again  Hilda  gave  a  gasp. 

"There  was  nothing  much  in  that,"  Netta  went  on, 
•without  heeding  her.  "  I  used  to  do  most  of  the  house 
work  when  we  were  in  Germany,  and  I  think  that  I  gave 
every  satisfaction.  Of  course  the  chief  difficulty  was 
about  my  deafness.  I  was  obliged  to  explain  to  them 
that  I  was  very  hard  of  hearing  unless  I  was  directly 
spoken  to.     Mr.  Johnstone  always  answered  the  bells 


A  PARTIAL  SUCCESS  235 

himself  when  he  was  at  home.  Of  course,  when  he  was 
out  it  was  my  duty  to  do  so.  When  I  was  downstairs 
it  was  simple  enough,  for  I  only  had  to  go  to  the  door 
of  the  room  of  which  I  saw  the  bell  in  motion.  At  first 
they  seemed  to  think  that  the  difficulty  was  insuperable; 
but  I  believe  that  in  other  respects  I  suited  them  so  well 
that  they  decided  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  when  her 
husband  was  out  and  I  was  upstairs  Mrs.  Johnstone  took 
to  answering  the  door  bells,  or  if  a  lodger  rang,  which 
was  not  very  often,  for  her  husband  seldom  went  out 
unless  they  were  a?!  three  away,  she  would  come  upstairs 
and  tell  me.  Johnstone  himself  said  to  me  one  day  that 
I  was  the  best  girl  he  had  ever  had,  and  that  instead  of 
having  to  go  most  carefully  over  the  sitting  rooms  before 
the  gentlemen  came  in  for  breakfast,  he  found  that 
everything  was  so  perfectly  dusted  and  tidied  up  that 
there  was  really  nothing  for  him  to  do. 

"  But  oh,  Hilda,  I  never  had  the  slightest  idea  before 
how  untidy  men  are!  The  way  they  spill  their  tobacco 
ash  all  over  the  room,  and  put  the  ends  of  their  cigars 
upon  mantelpieces,  tables,  and  everywhere  else,  you 
would  hardly  believe  it.  The  ground  floor  and  the  second 
floor  were  the  worst,  for  they  very  often  had  men  in  of 
an  evening,  and  the  state  of  the  rooms  in  the  morning 
was  something  awful.  Our  man  was  on  the  first  floor, 
and  did  not  give  anything  like  so  much  trouble,  for  he 
almost  always  went  out  in  the  evening  and  never  had 
more  than  one  or  two  friends  in  with  him.  One  of  these 
friends  was  the  man  we  saw  with  him  in  the  Eow,  and 
who,  we  had  no  doubt,  was  an  accomplice  of  his.  He 
came  oftener  than  anyone  else,  very  often  coming  in  to 
fetch  him.  As  he  was  always  in  evening  dress  I  suppose 
they  went  to  some  club  or  to  the  theater  together.  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  his  appearance  is  distinctly  that  of  a 
gentleman. 

"  I  had  taken  with  me  two  or  three  things  that  I  fore- 
saw I  should  want.  Among  them  was  an  auger,  and  some 
corks  of  a  size  that  would  exactly  fit  the  hole  that  it 
would  make.     Simcoe's  bedroom  communicated  with  the 


S36  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

sitting  room,  and  he  always  used  this  door  in  going  from 
one  room  to  the  other;  and  it  was  evident  that  it  was 
only  through  that  that  I  could  get  a  view  of  what  was 
going  on.  I  did  not  see  how  I  could  possibly  make  a  hole 
through  the  door  itself.  It  was  on  one  side,  next  to  that 
where  the  fireplace  was,  and  there  was  a  window  directly 
opposite,  and  of  course  a  hole  would  have  been  noticed 
immediately.  The  only  place  that  I  could  see  to  make 
it  was  through  the  door  frame.  Its  position  was  a  matter 
of  much  calculation,  I  can  assure  you.  The  auger  was 
half  an  inch  bore.  I  dared  not  get  it  larger,  and  it  would 
have  been  hopeless  to  try  and  see  anything  with  a  smaller 
one,  especially  as  the  hole  would  have  to  be  four  or  five 
inches  long,  As  I  sometimes  went  into  the  room  when 
they  were  together,  either  with  hot  water  or  grilled  bones, 
or  something  of  that  sort,  I  was  able  to  notice  exactly 
where  the  chairs  were  generally  placed.  Simcoe  sat  with 
his  back  to  the  bedroom  door,  and  the  other  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hearthrug,  facing  him.  I,  therefore, 
decided  to  make  the  hole  on  the  side  nearest  to  the  wall, 
so  tli at  I  could  see  the  other  man  past  Simcoe.  Of 
course  I  wanted  the  hole  to  be  as  low  as  possible,  as  it 
would  not  be  so  likely  to  be  noticed  as  it  would  were  it 
higher  up.  I  chose  a  point,  therefore,  that  would  come 
level  with  my  eye  when  I  was  kneeling  down. 

"  At  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  always 
went  out,  and  from  then  till  six  Johnstone  also  took  his 
airing,  and  I  went  upstairs  to  turn  down  the  beds  and 
tidy  up  generally.  It  was  very  seldom  that  any  of  them 
dined  at  home;  I,  therefore,  had  that  two  hours  to  myself. 
I  got  the  line  the  hole  should  go  by  leaving  the  door 
open,  fastening  a  stick  to  the  back  of  a  chair  till  it  was, 
as  nearly  as  I  could  judge,  the  height  of  the  man's  face, 
tying  a  piece  of  string  to  it  and  bringing  it  tight  to  the 
point  where  I  settled  the  hole  shoidd  start,  and  then 
marking  the  line  the  string  made  across  the  frame.  Then 
there  was  a  good  deal  more  calculation  as  to  the  side- 
slant;  but  ten  days  ago  I  boldly  set  to  work  and  bored 
'  the  hole.     Everv^-mg  was  perfectly  right.:  J  nor»ia  see 


A   PARTIAL  SUCCESS.  237 

the  head  of  the  stick,  and  the  circle  was  large  enough 
for  me  to  get  all  the  man's  face  in  view.  Of  course  I 
had  put  a  duster  on  the  ground  to  prevent  any  chips 
falling  onto  the  carpet. 

"  I  was  a  little  nervous  when  I  set  to  work  to  drill  that 
hole;  it  was  the  only  time  that  I  felt  nervous  at  all.  I 
had  beforehand  drilled  several  holes  in  the  shelves  of 
cupboards,  so  as  to  accustom  myself  to  use  the  auger, 
and  it  did  not  take  me  many  minutes  before  it  came 
through  on  the  other  side.  The  corks  were  of  two  sizes; 
one  fitted  tightly  into  the  hole,  the  other  could  be  drawn 
in  or  out  with  very  little  difficulty.  I  had  gone  out  one 
day  and  bought  some  tubes  of  paint  of  the  colors  that  I 
thought  would  match  the  graining  of  the  door  frame.  I 
also  bought  a  corkscrew  that  was  about  an  inch  and  a 
half  shorter  than  the  depth  of  the  hole.  It  was  meant 
to  be  used  by  a  cross-piece  that  went  through  a  hole  at 
the  top.  I  had  got  this  cross-piece  out  with  some  trouble, 
and  tied  a  short  loop  of  string  through  the  hole  it  had 
gone  through.  I  put  the  corkscrew  into  one  of  the 
smaller  corks  and  pushed  it  through  until  it  was  level 
with  the  frame  on  the  sitting-room  side,  and  found  that 
by  aid  of  the  loop  of  string  I  could  draw  it  out  easily. 
Then  I  put  one  of  the  larger  corks  in  at  the  bedroom  side 
of  the  hole  and  pushed  it  in  until  it  was  level  with  that 
side.  Then  I  painted  the  ends  of  the  corks  to  resemble 
the  graining,  and  when  it  was  done  they  could  hardly  be 
noticed  a  couple  of  feet  away. 

"  I  had  now  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  until  the  right 
moment  caine.  It  came  last  night.  The  man  arrived 
about  seven  o'clock.  Johnstone  was  out,  and  I  showed 
him  upstairs.  Simcoe  was  already  dressed,  and  was  in 
the  sitting  room.  I  lost  no  time,  but  went  into  the  bed- 
room, where  the  gas  was  burning,  turned  down  the  bed  on 
the  side  nearest  to  the  door,  and  then  went  round,  and 
with  another  corkscrew  I  had  ready  in  my  pocket  took 
out  the  inner  cork,  got  hold  of  the  loop,  and  pulled  the 
other  one  out  also.  Even  had  I  had  my  hearing,  I  could 
have  heard  nothing  of  what  was  said  inside,  for  the  doors 


238  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

were  of  mahogany,  and  very  well  fitted,  and  Johnstone 
had  said  one  day  that  even  if  a  man  shouted  in  one  room 
he  would  hardly  be  heard  in  the  next,  or  on  the  landing. 
I  pushed  a  wedge  under  the  door  so  as  to  prevent  its 
being  opened  suddenly.  That  was  the  thing  that  I  was 
most  afraid  of.  I  thought  that  Simcoe  could  hardly 
move  without  coming  within  my  line  of  sight,  and  that 
I  should  have  time  to  jump  up  and  be  busy  at  the  bed 
before  he  could  open  the  door.  But  I  was  not  sure  of 
this,  so  I  used  the  wedge.  If  he  tried  the  door  and  could 
not  open  it,  he  would  only  suppose  that  the  door  had 
stuck  and  I  could  snatch  out  the  wedge  and  kick  it  under 
the  bed  by  the  time  he  made  a  second  effort. 

"  Kneeling  down,  I  saw  to  my  delight  that  my  calcula- 
tions had  been  perfectly  right.     I  could  see  the  man's 
face  well,  for  the  light  of  the  candles  fell  full  upon  it. 
They  talked  for  a  time  about  the  club  and  the  men  they 
were  going  to  dine  with,  and  I  began  to  be  afraid  that 
there  was  going  to  be  nothing  more,  when  the  man  said, 
By  the  way,  Simcoe,  I  went  down  to  Tilbury  yesterday.' 
\\  hat  Simcoe  said,  of  course,  I  could  not  hear;  but  the- 
other  answered,  <  Oh,  yes,  he  is  all  right,  getting  quite 
at  home,  the  man  said;  and  has  almost  ceased  to  talk 
about  his  friends.'     Then  I  saw  him  rise,  and  at   once 
jumped  up  and  went  on  turning  down  the  bed,  lest  Simcoe 
should  have    forgotten  something  and  come  in  for  it. 
However,  he  did  not,  and  two  or  ihree  minutes  later  I 
peeped  m  again.     The  room  was  all  dark,  and  I  knew 
that  they  had  gone.     Then  I  put  my  corks  in  again,  saw 
that  the  paint  was  all  right,  and  went  downstairs.    I  told 
Mrs.  Johnstone  that,  if  I  could  be  spared,  I  should  like  to 
go  out  for  two  or  three  hours  this  morning  to  see  a  friend 
in  service.    It  was  the  time  that  I  could  best  be  spared. 
I  should  have  finished  the  sitting  rooms  by  eight  o'clock, 
/and  as  none  of  the  men  have  breakfast  until  about  eleven, 
there  was  plenty  of  time  for  me  to  make  the  beds  after  I 
got  back." 

Hilda  was  crying  now.     Her  relief  that  hearing  that 
Walter  was   alive  and  well   was   unbounded.     She  had 


A  PARTIAL  SUCCESS.  239 

absolutely  refused  to  recognize  the  body  found  in  the 
canal,  but  she  could  not  but  admit  that  the  probabilities 
were  all  against  her.  It  was  certain  that  the  clothes 
were  his,  the  child's  age  was  about  the  same,  the  body 
must  have  been  in  the  water  the  right  length  of  time, 
the  only  shadow  of  evidence  to  support  her  was  the  hair. 
She  had  taken  the  trouble  to  go  to  two  or  three  work- 
houses, and  found  that  the  coroner's  assertion  that  soft 
hair  when  cut  quite  close  will,  in  a  very  short  time,  stand 
upright,  was  a  correct  one.  She  kept  on  hoping  against 
hope,  but  her  faith  had  been  yielding,  especially  since 
Netta's  absence  had  deprived  her  of  the  support  that  she 
obtained  from  her  when  inclined  to  look  at  matters  from 
a  dark  point  of  view. 

"  Oh,  Netta,"  she  cried,  "  how  can  I  thank  you  enough! 
How  happy  the  news  has  made  me!  And  to  think  that  I 
have  been  blaming  you,  while  you  have  been  doing  all 
this.  You  cannot  tell  what  a  relief  it  is  to  me.  I  have 
thought  so  much  of  that  poor  little  body,  and  the  dread 
that  it  was  Walter's  after  all  has  been  growing  upon  me. 
I  have  scarcely  slept  for  a  long  time." 

"  I  know,  dear.  It  was  because  I  saw  that  though 
you  still  kept  up  an  appearance  of  hope,  you  were  really 
in  despair,  and  could  tell  from  your  heavy  eyes  when 
you  came  down  of  a  morning  that  you  had  hardly  slept, 
that  I  made  up  my  mind  something  must  be  done.  There 
was  no  hardship  whatever  in  my  acting  as  a  servant  for  a 
month  or  two.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  regarded  it  rather 
as  fun,  and  was  quite  proud  of  the  credit  that  my  master 
gave  me.    Now,  the  question  is,  shall  I  go  back  again?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  Netta.  You  might  be  months  there 
without  having  such  a  piece  of  luck  again.  At  any  mo- 
ment you  might  be  caught  listening,  or  they  might  notice 
the  hole  that  you  made  so  cleverly.  Eesides,  we  have 
gained  a  clew  now  to  Walter's  hiding  place.  But  even 
that  is  as  nothing  to  me  in  comparison  with  having 
learned  that  he  is  alive  and  well,  and  that  he  has  ceased 
to  fret  and  is  becoming  contented  in  his  new  home.  We 
can  afford  to  wait  now.     Sooner  or  later  we  are  sure  to 


246  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

find  him.  Before,  I  pictured  him,  if  still  alive,  as  shut 
up  in  some  horrible  cellar.  Now  I  can  be  patient.  I 
think  that  we  are  sure  to  find  him  before  long." 

"  Well,  I  think,  clear,"  Miss  Purcell  said  quietly,  "  that 
we  had  better  ring  the  bell  and  have  some  fresh  tea  made. 
Everything  is  perfectly  cold,  for  it  is  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  since  it  came  up." 

Hilda  rang  the  bell  and  gave  the  necessary  orders. 

"  Let  Janet  bring  the  things  up,  Eoberts,  and  come 
back  yourself  when  you  have  given  the  order.  I  want 
to  send  a  line  to  Dr.  Leeds.  You  will  be  delighted  to 
hear  that  Miss  Purcell  has  learned,  at  least,  that  Walter 
is  alive  and  well;  but  mind,"  she  went  on,  as  the  old 
soldier  was  about  to  burst  out  into  exclamations  of  de- 
light, "  you  must  keep  this  altogether  to  yourself.  It  is 
quite  possible  that  we  have  been  watched  as  closely  as  we 
have  been  watching  this  man,  and  that  he  may  in  some 
way  learn  everything  that  passes  here;  therefore  it  must 
not  be  whispered  outside  this  room  that  we  have  obtained 
any  news." 

"  I  understand,  miss.  I  won't  say  a  word  about  it 
downstairs." 

Hilda  scribbled  a  line  in  pencil  to  the  doctor,  saying 
that  Netta  was  back  and  that  she  had  obtained  some  news 
of  a  favorable  description,  and  that,  as  she  knew  that  at 
this  hour  he  could  not  get  away,  she  would  come  over 
with  Netta  at  once  to  tall  him  what  they  had  learned, 
and  would  be  in  Harley  Street  within  half  an  hour  of 
his  getting  the  message. 

As  soon  as  they  had  finished  breakfast  they  drove  to 
the  doctor's.  They  were  shown  up  into  the  drawing 
room,  where  Dr.  Leeds  joined  them  almost  immediately. 

"  We  are  not  going  to  detain  you  more  than  two  or 
three  minutes,"  Hilda  said,  while  he  shook  hands  warmly 
with  Netta.  "You  must  come  over  this  evening,  and 
then  you  shall  hear  the  whole  story;  but  I  thought  that 
it  was  only  fair  that  Netta  should  have  the  satisfaction 
of  telling  you  herself  what  she  had  learned." 

"It  is  very  little,  but  so  far  as  it  goes  it  is  quite 


Ji   PARTIAL  SUCCESS.  241 

satisfactory,  Dr.  Leeds.  I  heard,  or  rather  1  saw,  the 
man  we  suspected  of  being  Simcoe's  accomplice  say,  '  By 
the  way,  I  ran  down  to  Tilbury  yesterday.'  Siincoe  then 
said  something,  but  what  I  could  not  tell,  as  his  face  was 
hidden  from  me,  and  the  man  in  reply  said,  '  Oh,  yes,  he 
ifi  all  right,  and  has  almost  ceased  to  talk  about  his 
friends.'  Now  you  must  be  content  with  that  until  this 
evening." 

••  1  will  be  content  with  it,"  the  doctor  said,  "  if  you 
will  assure  me  that  you  are  not  going  away  again.  If 
you  will  not,  I  will  stop  here  and  hear  the  whole  story, 
even  at  the  risk  of  a  riot  down  in  my  waiting  room." 

"  No,  she  is  not  going  away,  doctor;  she  had  not  quite 
settled  about  it  when  she  got  back  this  morning,  but  I 
settled  it  for  her.  I  will  take  care  that  she  does  not  slip 
out  of  my  sight  till  after  you  have  seen  her  and  talked  it 
all  over." 

"  Then  the  matter  is  finally  settled,"  Netta  said, 
"  for  unless  I  go  in  half  an  hour's  time  I  cannot  go 
at  all." 

"  Then  I  will  be  patient  until  this  evening." 

"  Will  you  come  to  dinner,  doctor?  "  Hilda  said.  "  I 
have  sent  notes  off  to  Mr.  Pettigrew  and  Colonel  Bul- 
strode  to  ask  them  to  come,  as  I  have  news  of  importance 
to  give  them." 

"  What  will  they  do,  Netta,  when  they  find  that  you 
do  not  come  back?  "  Hilda  asked  as  they  drove  away. 

"  That  has  puzzled  me  a  good  deal.  I  quite  saw  that  if 
I  disappeared  suddenly  they  might  take  it  into  their 
heads  that  something  had  happened  to  me,  and  might 
go  to  the  police  office  and  say  I  was  missing.  But  that 
would  not  be  the  worst.  Simcoe  might  guess,  when  he 
heard  that  I  had  gone  without  notice  and  left  my  things 
behind  me,  that  I  had  been  put  there  to  watch  him.  He 
certainly  would  not  suspect  that  he  could  have  been 
overheard,  for  he  must  know  that  it  would  be  quite  im- 
possible for  any  words  to  be  heard  through  the  doors; 
still,  he  would  be  uneasy,  and  might  even  have  the  child 
aaoved  to  some  other  locality.    So  I  have  written  a  note, 


242  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

which  we  can  talk  over  when  we  get  in.  Of  course  they 
may  think  that  I  have  behaved  very  badly  in  throwing 
them  over  like  this,  but  it  is  better  that  they  should 
do  that  than  they  should  think  there  was  anything  sus- 
picious about  it.  My  wages  are  due  to-morrow;  like  the 
girl  I  succeeded,  I  was  to  have  eight  pounds  a  year.  I 
have  left  my  box  open,  so  that  the  mistress  can  see  for 
herself  that  there  is  none  of  the  lodgers'  property  in  it, 
There  are  two  or  three  print  dresses — I  put  on  my  Sun- 
day gown  when  I  came  out — and  the  underclothes  are  all 
duly  marked  Jane  Clotworthy." 

"  What  a  name  to  take,  Netta!  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  know  how  I  came  to  choose  it.     I  was 

thinking    what    name   I    would   take    when    Clotworthy 

•flashed  across  my  mind.    I  don't  think  that  I, ever  heard 

he  name  before,  and  how  I  came  to  think  of  it  I  cannot 

rnagine;  it  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  inspiration,  so  I  settled 

on  it  at  once." 

"  Now,  let  me  see  the  letter,"  Hilda  asked,  as  soon  as 
they  returned  home. 

"  I  hardly  liked  to  write  it,"  Netta  said,  "  it  is  such  a 
wicked  story;  but  I  don't  see  how  a  person  can  act  as 
detective  without  telling  stories,  and,  at  any  rate,  it  is 
perfectly  harmless." 

"  Oh,  yes;  it  is  quite  certain,  Netta,  that  you  could 
not  write  and  tell  her  that  you  have  been  in  her  house 
in  disguise,  and  that,  having  found  out  what  you  wanted, 
you  have  now  left  her.  Of  course  you  must  make  up  a 
story  of  some  sort,  or,  as  you  say,  Simcoe  would  at  once 
suspect  that  you  had  been  sent  there  to  watch  him.  He 
might  feel  perfectly  sure  that  no  conversation  could  have 
been  heard  outside  the  room,  but  he  could  not  be  sure 
that  you  might  not  have  been  hidden  under  the  table  or 
sofa,  or  behind  a  curtain.  When  so  much  depends  upon 
nis  thinking  that  he  is  absolutely  safe,  one  must  use 
;vhat  weapons  one  can.  If  you  have  any  scruples  about  it, 
I  will  write  the"  letter  for  you." 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  the  scruples  will  trouble  me," 
Netta  laughed.     "  Of  course,  I  have  had  to  tell  stories, 


A  PARTIAL  SUCCESS.  243 

and  one  more  or  less  will  not  weigh  on  my  mind.  Here 
is  the  letter.  If  you  can  think  of  any  better  reason  for 
running  away  so  suddenly,  by  all  means  let  me  have  it." 
The  letter  was  written  in  a  sprawling  hand,  and  with 
nany  of  the  words  misspelt.    It  began: 

"Dear  Mrs.  Johnstone:  I  am  afraid  you  will  think 
very  badly  of  me  for  leaving  you  so  sudding,  after  you 
and  Mr.  Johnstone  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  but  who 
should  I  meet  at  my  friend's  but  my  young  man.  We 
were  ingaged  to  be  married,  but  we  had  a  quarrel,  and 
that  is  why  I  came  up  to  town  so  sudding.  We  has  made 
it  up.  He  only  come  up  yesterday,  and  is  going  jlown 
this  morning,  and  nothing  would  do  but  that  I  must  go 
down  with  him  and  that  we  should  get  married  directly. 
He  says  that  as  the  banns  has  been  published  there  aint 
any  occasion  to  wait,  and  we  might  be  married  at  the  end 
of  the  week,  as  he  has  got  everything  ready  and  is  in 
good  employment.  So  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is, 
mam,  that  I  am  going  down  with  him  home  this  after- 
noon. As  to  the  wages  that  was  due  to-morrow,  of  course 
I  forfeit  them,  and  sorry  I  am  to  give  you  troubil,  by 
leaving  you  without  a  girl.  My  box  is  not  locked,  plese 
look  in  it  and  you  will  see  that  there  aint  nothing  there 
that  isn't  my  own.  In  one  corner  you  will  find  half  a 
crown  wrapped  up  in  paper,  plese  take  that  to  pay  for 
the  carriage  of  the  box,  the  key  is  in  the  lock,  and  I  send 
a  labil  to  tie  on." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Hilda?" 

"  I  think  it  will  do  capitally.  I  don't  think  any  better 
excuse  could  be  made.  But  where  will  you  have  the  box 
sent?" 

"  That  is  what  we  must  settle  together.  It  would  not 
do  to  send  it  down  to  some  little  village,  for  if  the  address 
was  unknown  it  might  be  sent  back  again." 
\  "  Yes;  and  if  John  Simcoe  had  any  suspicions  that  the 
story  was  a  false  one  he  might  go  down  there  to  make 
inquiries  about  Jane  Clotworthy,  and,  finding  no  such 


244  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

name  known  there,  and  the  box  still  lying  at  the  station, 
his  suspicion  that  he  had  been  watched  would  become 
almost  a  certainty." 

"  I  should  think  that  Reading  would  be  a  good  place 
to  send  to  it.  'Jane  Clotworthy,  Luggage  Office,  Read- 
ing.' Then  I  could  go  down  myself  and  ask  for  it,  and 
could  bring  it  up  by  the  next  train." 

"  Tom  Roberts  could  do  that,  Netta;  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  trouble  about  it." 

"  I  think  that  I  had  better  go  myself.  It  is  most  un- 
likely that  Simcoe  would  send  down  anyone  to  watch 
who  took  the  bo~  away,  but  if  he  should  be  very  uneasy 
he  might  do  so.  He  would  be  sure  to  describe  me  to  any- 
one that  he  sent,  so  that  it  would  be  better  that  I  should 
go  myself." 

"  I  think  that  your  story  is  so  plausible,  Netta,  that 
there  is  no  risk  whatever  of  his  having  any  doubts  about 
it,  but  still  one  cannot  be  too  careful." 

"  Then  I  will  wind  up  the  letter. 

"  *  Begging  your  pardon  for  having  left  you  in  the 
lurch  so  sudding.     I  remain,  your  obedient  servant, 

" '  Jane  Clotworthy. 

" '  P.  S. — I  am  very  sorry. 

"  '  P.  S. — Plese  give  my  respects  to  Mr.  Johnstone,  and 
excuse  blots.' " 

Hilda  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  as  she  glanced  at  the 
postscript. 

"That  will  do  admirably,  Netta,"  she  said.  "Now 
how  had  we  better  send  it?  " 

"  I  should  think  that  your  maid  had  better  take  it. 
You  might  tell  her  to  ring  at  the  bell,  hand  it  to  the 
woman,  and  come  away  at  once,  without  talking,  except 
saying  '  I  was  told  to  give  you  this.'  Then  she  would  be 
well  away  before  Mrs.  Johnstone  had  mastered  the  con- 
tents of  the  note.  It  had  better  be  sent  off  at  once,  for  by 
this  time  they  will  be  getting  in  a  way." 

"I  think  that  I  had  better  send  Roberts.    2$o  doubt 


A  PARTIAL  SUCCESS.  245 

Johnstone  himself  will  be  in,  and  will  answer  the  door; 
and  he  might  ask  Lucy  where  she  came  from,  and  I  don't 
want  to  tell  her  anything.  Eoberts  could  say  that  a 
young  woman  of  his  acquaintance,  down  Chelsea  way, 
asked  him  to  get  on  a  'bus  and  leave  it  for  her.  He  can  be 
trusted,  if  the  man  does  detain  him  and  ask  him  questions, 
to  give  sensible  answers." 

The  letter  was  sealed  and  Roberts  called  up. 

"  Take  a  cab  and  go  down  with  this  to  Jermyn  Street," 
Hilda  said.  "  I  want  it  left  at  that  house,  if  the  man 
who  opens  the  door  asks  you  who  you  have  brought  it 
from,  say  from  a  young  woman,  a  friend  of  yours,  in  a 
place  down  Chelsea  way.  I  don't  suppose  that  he  will 
ask  any  other  questions,  and  you  had  best  say  '  Cood- 
morning,'  and  saunter  off  carelessly,  as  if,  having  done 
your  errand,  you  had  nothing  else  on  hand.  Of  course 
you  won't  drive  up  to  the  door.  Leave  the  cab  round  the 
corner,  and  come  straight  back  here  in  it." 

"  All  right,  miss,"  lie  answered. 

There  was  a  little  look  of  amusement  in  the  man's 
face  as  he  glanced  at  Xetta  that  did  not  this  time  pass 
unnoticed  by  his  mistress.  She  waited  until  the  door 
had  closed  behind  him,  and  then  turned  sharply  on  her 
friend. 

"  I  believe,  Netta,  you  have  had  Eoberts  in  your  con- 
fidence all  the  time,  and  while  we  have  all  been  working 
ourselves  into  a  fever  as  to  where  you  could  be,  he  has 
known  it  all  along." 

"  One  cannot  work  without  accomplices,"  Netta 
laughed.  "  It  was  necessary  that  someone  should  make 
arrangements  with  the  servant  there  for  me  to  take  her 
place,  and  who  could  I  trust  better  than  Roberts?  I 
think  Colonel  Bulstrode's  servant  helped  in  the  matter; 
at  any  rate,  they  managed  it  capitally  between  them.  Of 
course  it  was  Eoberts  who  carried  my  box  out  that  morn- 
ing. You  must  not  be  angry  with  him,  Hilda,  for  keeping 
it  from  you.  I  made  him  promise  most  faithfully  that 
nothing  should  induce  him  to  confess." 

"  I  shan't  be  angry  with  him,  Netta,  but  you  may  be 


246  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

sure  that  I  shall  give  him  a  little  lecture  and  say  that  I 
will  have  no  mure  meddling  on  his  part,  except  by  my 
express  orders.  It  is  really  annoying,  you  know,  to  think 
that  all  this  time  we  were  fretting  about  you  there  was 
Eoberts  going  about  laughing  in  his  sleeve." 

"  Well,  you  know,  Hilda,  he  has  the  discovery  of  Walter 
as  much  at  heart  as  we  have,  and  he  has  certainly  not 
spared  himself  in  the  search  for  him." 

"  No,  that  he  has  not.  He  is  a  faithful  fellow,  and  I 
promise  you  that  I  won't  be  too  hard  on  him." 


CHAPTEE   XX. 

A    DINXER    PARTY. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  anyone  had  dined  at  the 
house  in  Hyde  Park  Gardens  since  General  Mathieson's 
death,  and  it  seemed  strange  to  Hilda  when  Mr.  Petti- 
grew,  at  her  request,  faced  her  at  the  table.  The  gentle- 
men had  all  arrived  within  a  minute  or  two  of  each  other, 
and  no  word  had  been  said  by  Hilda  as  to  the  subject 
about  which  she  had  specially  asked  them  there.  The 
table  was  well  lighted  and  bright  with  flowers,  and  the 
lawyer  and  Colonel  Bulstrode  were  both  somewhat  sur- 
prised at  the  cheerful  tone  in  which  Hilda  began  to  talk 
as  soon  as  they  sat  down.  It  was,  however,  eight  months 
Bince  the  house  was  first  shut  up,  and  though  all  had 
sincerely  regTetted  the  General's  death,  it  was  an  old 
story  now,  and  they  were  relieved  to  find  that  it  was  evi- 
dently not  Hilda's  intention  to  recall  the  past. 

During  dinner  the  talk  went  on  as  usual,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  servants  had  left  the  room  that  Hilda  said: 

"  Now,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  I  have  no  doubt  that  both  yon 
and  Colonel  Bulstrode  are  wondering  what  the  matter 
of  importance  about  which  I  asked  you  to  come  here  can 
be.  It  is  rather  a  long  story,  so  instead  of  going  upstairs 
we  will  stop  here.  My  news  is  great  news.  We  have  dis- 
covered— at  least  my  friend  Miss  Purcell  has  discovered! 
— that  without  doubt  Walter  is  alive  and  well." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  broke  from  Mr.  Pettigreftf 
and  the  Colonel. 

"By  gad,  that  is  great  news  indeed!"  the  latter  ex- 
claimed; "and  I  congratulate  you  most  heartily.  I  had1 
quite  given  up  all  hope  myself,  and  although  I  would! 
have  fought  that  fellow  to  the  last,  I  never  had  any  real 
doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  child  they  fished  out  of  thg 
*«nal  was  General's  Mathieson's  grandson/' 


241  TEE  LOST  HEIh. 

"You  astonish  nie  indeed,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said.  "I 
®wn  that,  while  I  was  able  to  swear  that  I  did  not  recog- 
nize Mm,  yet  as  a  reasonable  man  I  felt  that  the  evidence 
was  overpowering  the  other  way.  Though  I  would  not 
dash  your  hopes  by  saying  so,  it  appeared  to  me  certain 
that,  sooner  or  later,  the  courts  would  decide  that  the 
provisions  of  the  will  must  be  carried  out.  And  so  you 
discovered  this,  Miss  Netta?  May  we  ask  how  vou 
did  it?"  J 

"  Netta  wanted  her  share  in  the  matter  to  remain  a 
secret,  Mr.  Pettigrew;  but  I  told  her  that  was  out  of  the 
question,  and  that  it  was  quite  necessary  that  you  and 
Colonel  Bulstrode  should  know  the  precise  facts,  for  that, 
as  a  lawyer,  you  could  not  take  any  action  or  decide  upon 
any  course  to  be  pursued  unless  you  knew  the  exact 
circumstances  of  the  case.  However,  she  asked  me,  as 
she  has  given  me  the  whole  particulars,  to  tell  the  story 
for  her.  When  I  have  done  she  will  answer  any  questions 
you  may  like  to  ask." 

Hilda  then  repeated,  almost  word  for  word,  the  story 
Netta  had  told  her.  Mr.  Pettigrew  and  the  Colonel 
several  times  broke  in  with  exclamations  of  surprise  as 
she  went  on.     Dr.  Leeds  sat  grave  and  thoughtful. 

"  Splendidly  done!  "  Colonel  Bulstrode  exclaimed  when 
she  brought  her  story  to  an  end.  "  It  was  a  magnificent 
idea,  and  it  must  have  needed  no  end  of  pluck  to  carry 
it  out  as  you  did.  But  how,  by  looking  at  a  fellow's 
mouth  through  a  hole,  you  knew  what  he  said  beats  me 
altogether." 

"That  part  was  very  simple,  Colonel  Bestrode/' 
Netta  said  quietly.  "  I  learned  it  by  a  new  system  that 
they  have  in  Germany,  and  was  myself  was  a  teacher  in 
the  institution.  You  may  not  know,  perhaps,  that  I  am 
stone-deaf." 

"You  are  not  joking,  Miss  Purcell;  are  you?"  the 
Colonel  said,  looking  at  her  earnestly.  "Why,  I  have 
talked  to  you  a  dozen  times  and  it  never  struck  me  that 
you  were  in  the  slightest  degree  deaf." 

"I  am  absolutely  so,  as  Miss  Covington  will  tell  you, 


x  DINNER  PARTY.  ^49 

.d  Mr.  Pettigrew  knows  it  also.  Fortunate*/  1  did  not 
ose  my  hearing  until  I  was  six  years  old,  and  I  had  not 
altogether  lost  the  habit  of  speaking  when  I  went  out 
to  Germany,  three  years  later.  Had  I  been  born  deaf 
and  dumb  I  could  have  learned  to  understand  what  was 
said  perfectly,  but  should  never  have  spoken  in  a  natural 
voice/' 

"  Well,  it  is  wonderful  altogether,  and  I  should  not 
have  believed  it  if  a  stranger  had  told  me.  However,  the 
great  thing  at  present  is  that  you  have  found  out  that 
the  child  is  alive.  AVe  ought  not  to  be  long  in  laying 
hands  on  him  now,  Pettigrew,  eh?" 

"  I  hope  not,  Colonel;  but  you  must  not  be  too 
sanguine  about  that;  we  have  evidently  very  crafty 
scoundrels  to  deal  with._  Still,  now  that  we  feel  sure  that 
Sue  child  is  alive  and  well,  the  matter  is  a  comparatively 
straightforward  one,  and  we  can  afford  to  work  and  wait 
patiently.  Tilbury  is  only  a  bit  of  a  village,  but  beyond 
that  stretch  great  marshes — in  fact,  all  South  Essex  as 
far  as  the  mouths  of  the  rivers  Crouch,  Blackwater,  and 
Coin.  He  would  say,  '  I  went  down  to  Tilbury,'  because 
Tilbury  is  the  terminus  of  the  railway.  Possibly  he  may 
have  crossed  to  Gravesend;  possibly  he  may  have  gone 
inland  to  TJpminster  or  some  other  village  lying  in  that 
district;  or  he  may  have  driven  down  as  far  as  Foulness, 
which,  so  far  as  anybody  knows  anything  about  it,  might 
be  the  end  of  the  world.  Therefore,  ;here  is  a  wide  area 
to  be  searched." 

"  But  he  can  be  followed  when  he  goes  down  again, 
Mr.  Pettigrew?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  that  is  what  must  be  done, 
though  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  set  about 
inquiries  at  once.  But,  you  see,  it  is  not-eo  easy  to  follow 
a  man  about  country  roads  as  it  is  in  the  streets  of 
London.  No  doubt  he  must  drive  or  ride,  unless,  indeed, 
Walter  is  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the  station,  and 
you  may  be  sure  that  if  he  sees  a  trap  coming  after  him 
he  will  not  go  near  the  place  where  the  child  is.  Possi- 
bly, again,  he  may  not  gc  near  the  place  at  aJl.  but  may 


250  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

meet  someone  who  takes  the  money  for  the  child's  keep. 
,It  may  be  a  bargeman  who  sails  round  to  Harwich  or 
somewhere  along  the  south  coast.  It  may  be  the  steward 
of  a  steamer  that  goes  regularly  backwards  and  forwards 
to  France. 

"  I  don't  want  to  dishearten  you,  my  dear,"  he  broke 
off,  as  he  saw  how  Hilda's  face  fell  as  he  went  on,  "  but, 
you  see,  we  have  not  common  rogues  to  deal  with;  their 
whole  proceedings  have  shown  an  exceptional  amount  of 
coolness  and  determination.  Although  I  own  that  I  can 
see  nothing  absolutely  suspicious  in  the  way  that  last 
will  was  drawn  up  and  sfgned,  still  I  have  never  been  able 
to  divest  my  mind  of  an  idea  that  there  is  something  radi- 
cally wrong  about  it.  But  putting  aside  the  strange 
death  of  your  uncle,  we  have  the  cunning  way  in  which 
the  boy  was  stolen,  the  complete  success  with  which  our 
search  was  baffled,  the  daring  attempt  to  prove  his  death 
by  what  we  now  know  must  have  been  the  substitution  of 
the  body  of  some  other  child  of  the  same  age  dressed  in 
his  clothes.  All  this  shows  how  carefully  every  detail 
must  have  been  thought  out,  and  we  must  assume  that 
equal  care  will  be  shown  to  prevent  our  recovering  the 
boy.  Were  they  to  suspect  that  they  had  been  traced  to 
Tilbury,  and  were  watched  there,  or  that  any  inquiries 
were  being  made  in  the  neighborhood,  you  may  be  sure 
that  Walter  would  be  at  once  removed  some  distance 
away,  or  possibly  sent  abroad,  perhaps  to  Australia  or  the 
States.  There  could  be  no  difficulty  about  that.  There 
are  hundreds  of  emigrants  going  out  every  week  with 
their  families,  who  would  jump  at  the  offer  of  a  hundred 
pounds  for  adopting  a  child,  and  once  away  it  would  be 
next  to  impossible  ever  to  come  upon  his  traces.  So, 
you  see,  we  shall  need  to  exercise  the  most  extreme 
caution  in  our  searches." 

"I  see,  Mr.  Pettigrew,"  Hilda  said  quietly,  "that  the 
difficulties  are  far  greater  than  I  ever  dreamt  of.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  when  we  had  found  out  that  Walter 
was  alive  and  well,  and  that  Tilbury  was,  so  to  speak,  the 
starting  place  of  our  search,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter 


A  DINNER  PARTY.  251 

to  find  him.  Now  I  see  that,  except  for  the  knowledge 
that  he  is  alive,  we  are  nearly  as  far  off  as  ever." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Pettigrew  is  rather  making  the  worst  of 
things,  Miss  Covington,"  Dr.  Leeds  said,  speaking  for 
the  first  time.  "  No  doubt  the  difficulties  are  consider- 
able, but  I  think  we  have  good  heads  on  our  side  too,  as 
Miss  Purcell  has  proved,  and  I  feel  confident  that,  now 
that  we  have  learned  as  much  as  we  have  done,  we  shall 
be  successful  in  the   end." 

"  My  opinion,"  Colonel  Bulstrode  said,  "  is  that  we 
ought  to  give  these  two  fellows  in  custody  as  rogues,  vaga- 
bonds, and  kidnapers.  Then  the  police  will  set  to  work 
to  find  out  their  antecedents,  and  at  least  while  they  are 
shut  up  they  can  do  no  harm.  Gad,  sir,  we  should  make 
6hort  work  of  them  in  India." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  that  would  hardly  do,  Colonel  Bul- 
strode," Mr.  Pettigrew  said  mildly.  "  We  have  practically 
nothing  to  go  upon;  we  have  no  evidence  that  a  mag- 
istrate would  entertain  for  a  moment.  The  men  would 
be  discharged  at  once,  and  we  should  no  doubt  be  served 
the  next  morning  with  a  writ  for  at  least  ten  thousand 
pounds'  damages,  and,  what  is  more,  they  would  get  them; 
and  vou  may  be  very  sure  that  you  would  never  find  the 
child." 

"  Then  it  is  shameful  that  it  should  be  so,"  the  Colonel 
said  warmly;  "  why,  I  served  three  years  as  a  police  officer 
in  India,  and  when  I  got  news  that  a  dacoit,  for  instance, 
was  hiding  in  a  jungle  near  a  village,  down  I  would  go, 
with  a  couple  of  dozen  of  men,  surround  the  place,  and 
make  every  man  and  woman  a  prisoner.  Then  the  police 
would  examine  them,  and  let  me  tell  you  that  they  have 
pretty  rough  ways  of  finding  out  a  secret.  Of  course  I 
knew  nothing  about  it,  and  asked  no  questions,  but  you 
may  be  sure  that  it  was  not  long  before  they  made  some- 
one open  his  mouth.  Hanging  up  a  man  by  his  thumbs, 
for  instance,  freshens  his  memory  wonderfully.  You 
may  say  that  this  thorougli  way  of  getting  at  things  is 
not  according  to  modern  ideas.  I  don't  care  a  fig  for 
modern  ideas,  and,  as  far  as  that  goes,  neither  do  the 


252  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

natives  of  India.  My  object  is  to  find  out  the  author  of 
certain  crimes;  the  villagers'  object  is  to  shield  him.  If 
they  are  obstinate,  they  bring  it  on  themselves;  the  crim- 
inal is  caught,  and  justice  is  satisfied.  What  is  the  use  of 
police  if  they  are  not  to  catch  criminals?  I  have  no 
patience  with  the  maudlin  nonsense  that  prevails  in  this 
country,  that  a  criminal  should  have  every  chance  of 
escape.  He  is  warned  not  to  say  anything  that  would 
incriminate  himself,  material  evidence  is  not  admitted, 
his  wife  mayn't  be  questioned.  Why,  it  is  downright 
sickening,  sir.  The  so-called  spirit  of  fairness  is  all  on 
the  side  of  the  criminal,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  our 
whole  procedure,  instead  of  being  directed  to  punish  crim- 
inals, is  calculated  to  enable  them  to  escape  from  punish- 
ment. The  whole  thing  is  wrong,  sir — radically  wrong." 
And  Colonel  Bulstrode  wiped  his  heated  forehead  with  a 
huge  Indian  silk  handkerchief.  Hilda  laughed,  Netta 
smiled,  and  Mr.  Pettigrew's  eves  i winkled. 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  in  what  you  say,  Colonel  Bul- 
strode, though  I  cannot  go  with  you  in  the  matter  of 
hanging  men  up  by  their  thumbs." 

"Why,  sir,"  broke  in  Colonel,  "what  is  it?  Their 
own  native  princes  would  have  stretched  them  over  a 
charcoal  fire  until  they  got  the  truth  out  of  them." 

"  So,  possibly,  would  our  own  forefathers,  Colonel." 

"  Humph!  They  had  a  lot  more  common  sense  in  those 
days  than  they  have  now,  Mr.  Pettigrew.  There  was  no 
sentimentality  about  them;  they  were  short  and  sharp 
in  their  measures.  They  were  men,  sir — men.  They 
drank  like  men,  and  they  fought  like  men;  there  was 
sterling  stuff  in  them;  they  didn't  weaken  their  bodies  by 
drinking  slops,  or  their  minds  by  reading  newspapers." 

"  Well,  Colonel  Bulstrode,"  Hilda  said,  smiling,  "  if  it 
is  not  contrary  to  your  convictions,  we  will  go  upstairs 
and  have  a  cup  of  tea.  No  doubt  there  is  something  to  be 
said  for  the  old  days,  but  there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said 
on  the  other  side  of  the  question,  too." 

When  they  went  upstairs  Dr.  Leeds  sat.  down  b^ 
ffetta- 


A  DINNER  PARTY  253 

"I  am  afraid  that  you  blame  me  for  what  I  did,  Dr. 
Leeds,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  No,  I  do  not  blame  you  at  all  for  doing  it,  but  I  do 
think  that  you  ought  to  have  consulted  us  all  before  un- 
dertaking it.  Your  intention  was  a  noble  one,  but  the 
risk  that  you  ran  was  so  great  that  certainly  I  should  not 
have  felt  justified  in  allowing  you  to  undertake  it,  had  I 
had  any  voice  in  the  matter." 

"  But  I  cannot  see  that  it  was  dangerous,"  the  girl 
said.  "  He  could  not  have  knocked  me  down  and  beaien 
me,  even  if  he  had  caught  me  with  my  eye  at  the  peep- 
hole. He  could  only  have  called  up  Johnstone  and  de- 
nounced me  as  an  eavesdropper,  and  at  the  worst  I  should 
only  have  been  turned  straight  out  of  the  house." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  that  would  have  been  at  all  his 
course  of  action.  I  believe,  on  the  contrary,  that 
although  he  would  have  spoken  angrily  to  you,  he  would 
have  said  nothing  to  the  lodging-house  keeper.  He  would 
have  at  once  guessed  that  you  had  not  taken  all  this 
trouble  merely  to  gratify  a  silly  curiosity,  but  would  have 
been  sure  that  you  had  been  emplo}red  as  a  spy.  What  he 
would  have  done  I  do  not  know,  but  he  would  certainly 
have  had  you  watched  as  you  watched  him,  and  he  would, 
in  his  conversation  with  his  confederates,  have  dropped 
clews  that  would  have  sent  us  all  off  on  wild-goose  chases. 
I  don't  think  that  he  would  have  ventured  on  getting  you 
removed,  for  he  would  have  known  that  he  would  have 
been  suspected  of  foul  play  at  once  by  those  who  had 
employed  you.  I  hope  you  will  give  me  a  promise  that 
you  will  never  undertake  any  plan  without  consulting 
Miss  Covington  and  myself.  You  can  hardly  realize  what 
anxiety  I  have  suffered  while  you  have  been  away." 

"  I  will  promise  willingly,  Dr.  Leeds.  I  did  not  think 
anything  of  the  danger,  and  do  not  believe  even  now  there 
was  any;  but  I  do  think  that  Hilda  would  not  have  heard 
of  my  going  as  a  servant,  and  that  you  would  not  have 
approved  of  it.  Still,  as  I  saw  no  harm  in  it  myself,  I 
thought  that  for  once  I  would  act  upon  my  own  ideas." 

"  There  are  circumstances  under  whicj*  vo  one  need 


254  TEE  LOST  EEIIt. 

disapprove  of  a  lady  acting  as  a  servant,"  he  said  quietly. 
"If  a  family  misfortune  has  happened,  and  she  has  to 
earn  her  own  living,  I  think  that  there  are  many  who 
would  be  far  happier  in  the  position  of  a  servant  in  a 
good  family,  than  as  an  ill-paid  and  over-worked  gov- 
erness. The  one  is  at  least  her  own  mistress,  to  a  large 
extent,  as  long  as  she  does  her  work  properly;  the  other 
can  never  call  her  time  her  own.  In  your  case,  certainly, 
the  kind  object  with  which  you  undertook  the  task  was  a 
full  justification  of  it,  had  you  not  been  matching  your- 
self against  an  unscrupulous  villain,  who,  had  he  detected 
your  disguise,  would  have  practically  hesitated  at  nothing 
to  rid  himself  of  you.  It  happened,  too,  in  this  case  you 
were  one  of  the  few  persons  who  could  have  succeeded; 
for,  as  you  say,  it  would  have  been  next  to  impossible 
for  anyone  unpossessed  of  your  peculiar  faculty  to 
have  overheard  a  conversation,  doubtless  conducted  in 
a  somewhat  low  voice,  through  such  a  hole  as  you 
made." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  any  worse  of  me  for  it?  " 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  that,"  he  said  quietly. 
"My  opinion  is  already  so  fixed  on  that  subject  that  I 
doubt  if  anything  you  could  do  would  shake  it." 

Then  he  got  up  and  walked  across  to  where  the  others 
were  chatting  together. 

"Now,  are  we  to  have  another  council?"  Hilda  asked. 

"  I  think  not,"  Dr.  Leeds  said;  "  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  matter  requires  a  great  deal  of  thinking  over  before 
we  decide,  and  fortunately,  as  the  man  went  down  to 
Tilbury  only  two  days  ago,  he  is  not  likely  to  repeat  his 
visit  for  another  month  at  least,  possibly  for  another 
three  months.  Men  like  that  do  not  give  away  chances, 
and  he  would  probably  pay  for  three  months'  board  for 
the  child  at  a  time,  so  as  to  avoid  having  to  make  the 
journey  oftener,  however  confident  he  might  be  that  he 
was  not  watched." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Dr.  Leeds,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said.  "  It 
would  never  do  to  make  a  false  step." 

"  Still,"   Hilda   urged,   "  surely  there   cannot  be   any 


A  DINNER  PARTY.  255 

need  to  -wait  for  his  going  down  again.  A  sharp  de- 
tective might  find  out  a  good  deal.  He  could  inquire 
whether  there  was  anyone  at  Tilbury  who  let  out  traps. 
Probably  nothing  beyond  a  gig  or  a  pony-cart  could  be 
obtained  there.  He  would,  of  course,  hire  it  for  a  drive 
to  some  place  within  three  or  four  miles,  and  while  it  was 
got  ready  would  casually  ask  if  it  was  often  let;  he  might 
possibly  hear  of  someone  who  came  down  from  town — a 
bagman,  perhaps,  who  hired  it  occasionally  for  calling 
upon  his  customers  in  the  villages  round." 

"  I  think  that  that  is  a  capital  suggestion,"  Mr.  Petti- 
grew  said.  "  I  don't  see  why,  while  we  are  thinking  over 
the  best  way  to  proceed,  we  should  not  get  these  inquiries 
made.  They  might  be  of  some  assistance  to  us.  I  will 
send  a  man  down  to-morrow  or  next  day.  As  you  say,  it 
may  give  us  something  to  go  uaon." 

Netta  went  down  two  days  later  to  Reading.  She  had 
the  box  labeled  to  Oxford,  and  took  a  third-class  ticket 
for  herself.  She  had  a  suspicion  that  a  man  who  was 
lolling  on  a  seat  on  the  platform  looked  closely  at  her, 
and  she  saw  him  afterwards  saunter  away  towards  the 
luggage  office.  When  the  train  came  in  her  box  was  put 
into  the  van,  and  she  got  out  at  the  next  station  and 
returned  by  the  first  train  to  London,  feeling  satisfied 
that  she  would  never  hear  anything  more  of  the  box. 

The  next  day  a  detective  called  who  had  been  engaged 
earlier  in  the  search  for  Walter  and  had  frequently  seen 
Hilda. 

"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said,  Miss  Covington,  that  I  had  better 
come  to  you  and  tell  you  exactly  what  I  have  done.  I 
went  down  to  Tilbury  yesterday.  I  took  with  me  one 
or  two  cases  made  up  like  a  traveler's  samples,  and  I 
presently  found  that  the  man  at  the  public  house  by  the 
water  had  a  pony-trap  which  he  let.  I  went  over  to  him 
and  said  that  I  wanted  it  for  the  day. 

" '  How  far  are  you  going? '  he  asked. 

"'I  am  going  to  Stanford,  I  said;  'then  by  a  cross- 
road by  Lain  don  to  Hornchurch  and  back,* 

" '  It  is  rather  a  long  round  for  one  day,'  he  said. 


256  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

. "  '  'Tis  a  long  round/  I  said.  '  Well,  maybe  I  might 
sleep  at  Hornchurch,  and  go  on  to  Upminster.' 

"'You  will  have  to  pay  a  deposit  of  a  couple  of 
pounds/  he  said,  '  unless  you  like  to  take  a  boy/ 

"  I  said  I  preferred  driving  myself,  and  that  it  was  less 
weight  for  the  pony.  '  I  suppose  you  often  let  it  out?  '  I 
remarked. 

"'  Pretty  often/  he  said;  'you  see,  there  is  no  way  of 
getting  about  beyond  this.  It  would  pay  me  to  keep  a 
better  trap  if  it  wasn't  that  commercials  generally  work 
this  country  in  their  own  vehicles,  and  take  the  road 
from  Barking  through  Dagenham,  or  else  from  Brent- 
wood or  Chelmsford  or  one  of  the  other  Great  Eastern 
stations.  There  is  one  in  your  line  comes  occasionally; 
he  goes  by  the  same  route  you  are  taking,  and  always  has 
the  trap  to  himself.  He  travels  for  some  spirit  firm,  I 
think;  he  always  brings  down  a  couple  of  cases  of 
bottles.' 

"  '  That  is  my  line  too/  I  said.  '  He  hasn't  been  here 
lately,  I  hope?' 

" '  Well,  yes,  he  was  here  three  or  four  days  ago;  he 
is  a  pretty  liberal  chap  with  his  samples,  I  should  say, 
for  he  always  comes  back  with  his  cases  empty.'  Of* 
course  I  hired  the  pony  and  trap.  I  drove  through  New 
Tilbury,  Low  Street,  and  Stanford.  I  put  up  there  for 
three  or  four  hours.  At  each  place  I  went  to  all  the 
public  houses,  and  as  I  marked  the  liquors  cheap  I  got 
several  orders.  I  asked  at  every  place  had  anyone  in  my 
line  been  round  lately,  and  they  all  said  no,  and  nobody 
had  noticed  the  pony  cart;  but  of  course  that  did 
not  prove  that  he  might  not  have  driven  through 
there." 

"  You  did  not  make  any  inquiries  about  a  missing 
child?" 

"No,  Miss  Covington.  Mr.  Pettigrew  particularly 
told  me  that  I  was  not  to  make  any  inquiries  whatever." 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  we  agreed  upon,  Bassett;  we  don't 
want  to  run  the  slightest  risk  of  their  suspecting  that 
we  are  inquiring  in  that  direction.     My  own  idea  is  that 


A  DINNER  PARTY.  257 

you  could  do  no  harm  if  you  went  round  several  times, 
just  as  you  did  yesterday;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  I 
for  you  not  to  start  from  the  same  place,  but  to  hire  a 
vehicle  and  drive  round  the  country,  stopping  at  all  the 
villages,  and  apparently  trying  to  get  orders  for  spirits 
or  tobacco.  That  idea  of  yours  is  an  excellent  one,  be- 
cause your  inquiry  whether  another  man  had  been  along 
in  the  same  trade  would  seem  natural.  You  might  say 
everywhere  that  you  had  heard  of  his  going  round  there, 
but  that  it  did  not  look  much  like  business  driving  a 
rickety  little  trap  with  a  pony  not  worth  fifty  shillings. 
At  any  village  public  houses  at  which  he  stopped  they 
could  hardly  help  noticing  it,  and  if  you  heard  that  he 
had  put  up  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  it  would  certainly 
be  something  to  go  upon,  and  a  search  round  there  might 
lead  to  a  result.  However,  do  not  go  tmtil  you  hear  again 
from  me.  I  will  talk  it  ever  with  Mr.  Pettigrew,  and  see 
what  he  thinks  of  it." 

"  It  certainly  seems  to  me  that  we  might  light  upon 
a  clew  that  way,  ifiss  Covington,  and  if  he  were  to 
happen  to  hear  that  another  man  in  the  same  line  had 
been  there  asking  questions  about  him,  it  would  seem 
natural  enough,  because  of  course  a  commercial  would 
like  to  know  what  line  another  in  the  same  branch  was 
following,  and  how  he  was  doing.  Then  I  will  wait  your 
further  orders.  There  would  be  sure  to  be  traps  to  be 
hired  at  Barking  or  Eainham,  and  if  there  are  not,  I 
could  get  one  at  Bromley.  Indeed,  as  I  should  want  it 
for  a  day  or  two,  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  get  it  there 
as  farther  east,  and  I  should  be  likely  to  get  a  better- 
looking  turnout.  In  little  places  a  man  with  a  good  turn- 
out is  more  likely  to  do  business  than  one  who  looks 
second-rate  altogether.  It  seems  a  sort  of  credit  to  the 
place;  and  they  would  give  him  orders  where  they  would 
not  to  a  man  who  made  no  sort  of  show.  I  should  say, 
miss,  that  as  I  shall  be  going  over  the  ground  more  than 
once,  it  wotdd  be  best  to  send  on  the  goods  I  get  orders 
for;  they  don't  amount  to  very  much,  and  I  should  get 
about  the  same  price  that  I  gave  for  then*      T  know  a 


258  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

clerk  in  the  tirm  whose  liquors  I  took  down.  1  toia  him 
that  I  was  going  down  in  that  part  of  Essex,  and  asked  if 
they  would  give  me  a  commission  on  anything  that  I 
could  sell.  They  said  'yes'  willingly  enough,  and  the 
clerk  said  I  was  a  respectable  man  who  could  he  trusted; 
and  so  it  will  cost  nothing,  and  will  open  the  way  for 
my  making  another  call.  Of  course  when  I  am  known 
there  I  can  ask  questions  more  freely,  sit  in  the  bar- 
parlor,  smoke  a  cigar  with  the  landlord,  and  so  on." 

"  I  think  that  is  an  excellent  idea.  Well,  at  any  rate 
you  shall  hear  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two." 

Miss  Purcell  had  gone  on  quietly  with  her  knitting 
and  uttered  no  remarks  while  the  man  was  present.  Im- 
mediately he  had  left,  she  said,  "I  think,  Netta,  that  we 
xall  gradually  get  at  it." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so;  that  man  seems  really  a  sharp  fellow. 
i  had  quite  lost  all  faith  in  detectives,  but  I  see  that  when 
they  have  really  got  something  to  go  upon,  they  know 
how  to  follow  it  up." 

Hilda  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Mr.  Pettigrew,  and  re- 
ceived three  words  in  answer:  "  By  all  means."  So  Bas- 
sett  was  written  to  and  told  to  continue  his  career  as  a 
commercial  traveler,  but  to  abstain  altogether,  for  the 
present,  from  any  questions  about  the  boy. 

Ten  days  later  Mr.  Pettigrew  forwarded  a  letter  that 
he  had  received  from  Bassett,  which  was  as  follows: 

"  Sir:  I  have  to  report  that  I  have  for  the  last  fort- 
night been  engaged  in  driving  about  the  country  in  ac- 
cordance with  Miss  Covington's  instructions.  The  only 
place  where  I  can  ascertain  that  the  pony  and  cart 
from  Tilbury  was  noticed  about  that  time  was  at  Stan- 
ford. My  inquiries  there  before  had  failed,  but  after 
dining  at  the  inn,  I  went  out  into  the  yard  behind,  and 
asked  the  helper  whether  the  same  trap  that  I  drove  over 
in  from  Tilbury  had  been  there  since. 

" '  Not  since  you  were  here  last,'  he  said;  '  at  least  if 
it  was  you  as  drove  the  pony  over  somewhere  about  three 
weeks  ago.    I  did  not  see  you  then,  I  was  doing  a  job  over 


A  DINNER  PARTY.  259 

at  the  cowhouse.  That  pony  aint  been  here  since  then, 
though  he  was  here  two  days  before.  The  man  put  him 
up  for  three  or  four  hours,  and  hired  a  horse  from  the 
landlord  to  ride  over  to  Billericay.  He  must  have  gone 
cross  country,  I  should  say,  by  the  mud  on  its  legs. 
However,  he  tipped  me  a  bob,  so  I  cleaned  it  up  and  said 
nothing  to  master;  but  the  horse  was  ail  in  a  lather  and 
must  have  been  taken  along  at  a  hunting  pace  all  the 
way.'  Waiting  further  orders, 
"  I  remain, 

"  Youx-s  respectfully, 

"H.  Bassett." 

Mr.  Pettigrew  came  down  himself  in  the  evening. 

"  Well,  Miss  Covington,  I  think  that  the  scent  is  get- 
ting warm.  Now  is  the  time  that  you  must  be  very 
cautious.  I  think  we  may  take  it  that  the  child  is  some- 
where within  ten  or  twelve  miles  of  Stanford,  north  or 
east  of  it.  The  man  was  away  for  over  three  hours,  and 
he  rode  fast.  It's  not  likely  that  the  horse  was  anything 
out  of  the  way.  However,  allowing  for  half  an  hour's 
stay  somewhere,  I  think  we  may  take  twelve  miles  as  the 
limit.  Still,  a  circle  of  twelve  miles'  radius  covers  a  very 
large  area.  I  have  been  looking  up  the  map  since  that 
man  set  about  inquiring  down  there.  Twelve  miles  would 
include  the  whole  of  the  marshes  as  far  as  Leigh.  It 
goes  up  to  Brentwood,  Billericay,  Downham,  and  touches 
Rayleigh;  and  in  that  semicircle  would  be  some  sixty  or 
Seventy  villages,  large  and  small." 

"  I  have  been  looking  at  the  map  too,  Mr.  Pettigrew, 
and  it  does  not  seem  to  me  at  all  likely  that  he  would 
go  near  the  places  that  you  first  mentioned;  they  are 
quite  close  to  the  Great  Eastern  Bailway,  by  which  he 
would  have  traveled,  instead  of  going  round  such  an 
enormous  detour  by  Tilbury  and  Stanford." 

"  One  would  think  so,  my  dear,  certainly;  but,  you  see, 
a  man  having  the  least  idea  that  he  was  watched,  which  I 
admit  we  have  no  reason  for  believing  that  this  fellow 
has.   would    naturally   choose    a   very    circuitous    route; 


260  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

However,  1  think  that  we  need  hardly  try  so  far  to  the 
north,  to  begin  with;  I  should  say  that  the  area  of  our 
search  need  go  no  farther  north  than  Downham,  and  that 
between  a  line  running  west  from  that  place  and  the  river 
the  child  is  most  likely  to  be  hidden." 

"  I  should  say,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  that  the  detective  might 
engage  four  or  five  fellows  who  could  act  separately  in 
villages  on  each  of  the  roads  running  from  Stanford  east 
or  northeast.  The  villages  should  be  at  least  two  miles 
away  from  Stanford,  because  he  might  start  by  one  road 
and  then  turn  off  by  another.  But  in  two  miles  he  would 
probably  settle  down  on  the  road  he  was  going  to  follow 
and  we  should,  therefore,  get  the  general  direction  of 
Walter's  hiding  place.  Then,  as  soon  as  he  passed,  the 
watcher  should  follow  him  on  foot  till  he  met  him  coming 
back.  If  he  did  meet  him,  he  would  know  that  at  any 
rate  he  had  been  farther;  if  he  did  not  meet  him,  he  would 
know  that  he  had  turned  off  somewhere  between  him  and 
the  village  that  he  had  passed.  Netta  and  I  have  been 
talking  the  matter  over,  and  it  seems  to  us  that  this 
would  be  the  best  plan,  and  that  it  would  be  as  well, 
also,  to  have  a  man  to  watch  at  Tilbury  Station;  because 
he  may  possibly  choose  some  entirely  different  route  the 
next  time  he  comes,  and  the  men  in  the  villages,  not 
knowing  that  he  had  come  down  at  all,  might  be  kept 
there  for  a  month  waiting  for  his  next  visit." 

"You  and  your  friend  have  certainly  put  your  heads 
together  to  good  purpose,"  the  old  lawyer  said,  "and  I 
do  not  see  any  better  plan  than  you  suggest.  You  had 
better  have  Ba"ssett  down  here,  and  give  him  your  instruc- 
tions yourself." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Pettigrew;  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will 
write  a  line  to  him  to-night,  for  in  three  days  it  will  be 
a  month  since  this  man  last  went  down,  or  at  any  rate 
since  we  know  that  he  went  down.  Of  course,  it  may 
be  three  months  before  he  goes  again,  and  if  he  does 
not  come  in  four  or  five  days  the  men  must  be  recalled; 
for  although  each  of  them  could  stop  in  a  village  for 
&  day  or  two  under  the  pretense  of  finding  work  ?•*  the 


A  DINNER  PARTY.  261 

neighborhood,    they    certainly    could    not    stop    for    a 
month." 

"  Very  well,  I  leave  you  a  :?ree  hand  in  the  matter, 
altogv:  3S  Covington;  for  frankly  I  acknowledge 

that  you  are  vastly  mose  iikeij  i©  ferret  the  thing  oiiu 
than  I  am," 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

A    BOX   AT   THE    OPEEA. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Simcoe,"  Harrison  said  two 
months  later,  "  this  affair  of  yours  is  getting  to  be  a  good 
deal  more  troublesome  than  I  bargained  for.  It  all 
looked  simple  enough;  one  only  had  to  pick  up  a  child, 
drive  him  in  a  cab  across  London,  then  down  in  a  trap  to 
Pitsea,  hand  him  over  to  a  man  I  knew  would  take  good 
care  of  him,  and  take  the  payments  for  him  when  they  be- 
came due,  which  would  be  no  trouble,  as  I  had  to  see  the 
man  occasionally  on  my  own  business.  Of  course  I  ex- 
pected that  there  would  be  a  big  hue  and  cry  for  him, 
but  I  had  no  fear  whatever  of  his  being  found.  Then  I 
managed  through  another  man  to  get  that  body  from  the 
workhouse  undertaker,  and  you  managed  the  rest  easily 
enough;  but  I  tell  you  that  the  matter  is  getting  a  good 
deal  hotter  than  I  ever  thought  it  would. 

"  I  told  you  that  I  had  been  followed  several  times 
after  leaving  your  place,  and  one  morning  when  I  went 
out  early  I  saw  footmarks,  showing  that  someone  had 
been  walking  round  my  house  and  trying  to  look  in  at 
the  windows.  I  have  a  strong  suspicion  that  I  have  been' 
followed  to  my  office,  and  I  know  that  someone  got  ini 
there  one  day  at  my  dinner  hour.  I  know,  because  I 
always  fasten  a  piece  of  thread,  so  that  if  the  door  i8 
opened  it  breaks  it.  There  is  nothing  there  that  anyone 
could  make  anything  of,  but  it  is  just  as  well  to  know  if 
anyone  has  been  prying  about.  The  woman  of  the  house 
was  sure  that  she  had  not  been  in  there,  nor  had  she  let 
anyone  in;  so  the  lock  must  have  been  picked.  Of  course 
anyone  is  liable  to  have  his  office  robbed  when  he  is  out 
and  it  is  emoty;  but  nothing  was  taken,  and  if  a  eommon 

262 


A  BOX  AT  THE  OPERA.  283 

thief  had  found  nothing  else  he  would  probably  have 
made  off  with  my  dress  suit,  which  would  have  brought 
him  a  sov.  in  a  second-hand  clothes  shop. 

"  You  know  I  have  an  excessive  objection  to  being 
watched.  I  have  had  nothing  on  hand  lately,  at  any  rate 
nothing  that  has  come  off,  but  I  might  have  had,  you 
know.  Well,  yesterday  I  was  going  down  to  see  my  man 
in  the  marshes,  and  to  tell  him  that  likely  enough  I 
should  bring  something  down  to  him  next  week.  I  got 
out  of  the  train  at  Tilbury,  and,  as  you  know,  there  are 
not  a  dozen  houses  anywhere  near  the  station.  Now,  I 
have  a  habit  of  keeping  my  eyes  open,  and  I  saw  a  man 
sitting  on  an  old  boat.  What  called  my  attention  par- 
ticularly to  him  was  that  he  was  turned  half  round 
watching  the  entrance  to  the  station  as  I  came  out.  Yon 
can  always  tell  whether  a  man  is  watching  for  someone, 
or  whether  he  is  merely  looking  generally  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  this  man  was  certainly  watching  for  someone. 
The  instant  his  eye  fell  upon  me  he  turned  round  and. 
stared  at  the  river.  The  path  to  the  public  house  lay  just 
behind  him.  Now,  it  would  be  natural  that  hearing  a 
footstep  a  man  doing  nothing  would  look  round  and  per- 
haps say  a  word  — ask  the  time,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
Well,  he  didn't  turn  round.  Now,  it  is  my  habit,  and  a 
very  useful  one,  always  to  carry  a  glass  of  about  the  size 
of  a  folded  letter  in  my  pocket.  Instead  of  going  on  to 
the  public  house  I  turned  off  from  the  path  and  walked 
away  from  the  river.  When  I  had  got  some  little  distance 
I  took  out  my  glass,  and  still  walking  along,  I  held  it  up 
so  that  I  could  see  in  it  what  was  going  on  behind.  The 
man  was  standing  up,  watching  me.  I  put  the  glass  in 
my  pocket  and  dropped  my  handkerchief.  I  stooped 
down  to  pick  it  up,  of  course  partly  turning  as  I  did  so, 
and  saw  that  he  had  instantly  dropped  into  a  sitting  posi- 
tion again,  with  his  back  to  me. 

"That  was  good  enough.  I  turned,  cut  across  the 
fields,  went  straight  back  to  the  station  and  took  the 
next  ferry-boat  to  Gravesend,  and  came  back  that  way. 
It  is  quite  clear  to  me  that  not  only  is  this  «n'»i  on  the , 


264  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

track  still,  but  the  chase  is  getting  to  be  a  very  hot  one, 
and  that  not  only  are  they  watching  you,  but  they  are 
watching  me,  and  have  in  some  way  or  other,  though  how, 
I  cannot  guess,  found  out  that  I  go  down  to  Tilbury, 
and  have  accordingly  sent  a  man  down  to  follow  me. 
Now,  I  tell  you  frankly,  I  will  have  no  more  to  do  with 
the  matter — that  is  to  say,  as  far  as  going  down  on  your 
business.  As  I  have  told  you,  I  have  always  managed 
my  own  affairs  so  well  that  the  police  and  I  have  no 
acquaintance  whatever;  and  I  am  not  going  to  be  spied 
upon  and  followed  and  have  the  'tecs  upon  my  track 
about  an  affair  in  which  I  have  no  interest  at  all,  except 
that,  you  having  stood  by  my  brother,  I  was  glad  to  do 
you  any  service  I  could.  But  this  is  getting  serious.  I 
don't  like  it.  I  have  told  you  I  have  business  with  the 
man,  and  get  things  off  abroad  through  him  that  I  should 
have  great  trouble  in  getting  rid  of  in  any  other  way;  but 
unless  in  quite  exceptional  cases,  these  things  are  so 
small  that  they  could  be  hidden  away  for  months  without 
much  risk  of  their  being  found,  however  sharp  the  hunt 
after  them  might  be.  As  I  am  in  no  way  pressed  for 
money  I  can  afford  to  wait,  though  I  own  that  I  like  to 
get  the  things  off  my  hands  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  as  .1 
considered  that  I  ran  practically  no  risk  in  going  down 
with  them  into  Essex,  I  never  kept  them  at  my  house. 
However,  for  a  time  I  must  do  so.  I  must  tell  you  that 
when  I  am  going  down  I  always  write  beforehand  and 
make  an  appointment  for  him  to  have  his  barge  at  the 
wharf  at  Pitsea,  and  I  send  my  letter  addressed  to  him: 
'Mr.  William  Mbson,  barge  Mary  Ann,  care  of  Mr. 
Scholey,  Spotted  Horse,  Pitsea.'  You  had  better  write 
to  him  in  future.  You  need  not  put  anything  inside  the 
envelope  except  notes  for  twenty-five  pounds,  and  the 
words,  '  For  the  child's  keep  for  six  months.'  I  need  not 
say  that  you  had  better  disguise  your  writing,  both  on 
the  envelope  and  on  the  inside,  and  it  is  best  that  you 
should  get  your  notes  from  some  bookmaker  on  a  race- 
course. You  tell  me  you  often  go  to  races  now  and  do  a 
little  betting.     They  are  not  the  sort  of  men  who  take 


A  BOX  AT  THE  OPERA.  265 

me  numbers  of  the  notes  they  pay  out,  and  it  would  be 
next  to  impossible  for  them  to  be  traced  to  you." 

■  "  Thank  you,  Harrison;  you  have  behaved  like  a  true 
pal  to  me,  and  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you.  I  cp.ute 
see  what  you  mean,  and  indeed  it  is  as  much  for  my 
interest  as  yours  that  you  should  not  go  down  there  any 
more.  Confound  that  girl  Covington!  I  am  sure  she  is 
the  moving  spirit  of  it  all.  I  always  felt  uneasy  about 
her  from  the  first,  and  was  sure  that  if  there  was  any 
trouble  it  would  come  from  her.  I  wonder  how  the  deuce 
she  ever  found  out  that  you  went  down  to  Tilbury." 

"  That  beats  me  too,  Simcoe.  As  you  may  guess,  I  am 
always  most  cautious  about  it,  and  always  take  a  very, 
roundabout  way  of  going  to  the  station." 

"  I  have  been  uneasy  ever  since  that  girl  at  our  place 
left  so  suddenly.  A  fortnight  afterwards  we  found  that 
there  was  a  hole  bored  through  the  doorpost.  Of  course 
it  might  have  been  bored  before  I  went  there;  but  in  that 
case  it  is  curious  that  it  was  never  noticed  before.  I  can- 
not help  thinking  that  she  did  it." 

"  Yes,  you  told  me;  but  you  said  that  you  tried  the 
experiment,  and  found  that  when  your  man  and  his  wife 
were  talking  there  in  a  loud  voice,,  and  you  had  your  ear 
at  the  hole,  you  could  not  catch  a  single  word." 

"  Yes,  that  was  certainly  so.  I  could  hear  them  talk- 
ing, but  I  could  not  make  out  a  word  of  their  conversa- 
tion. Still  it  is  evident  that  somebody  has  been  trying 
to  hear.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  was  that  girl, 
though  both  Johnstone  and  his  wife  spoke  very  highly  of 
her.  Certainly  the  story  she  told  them  was  true  to  a 
certain  extent,  for  when  they  sent  the  box  down  to  Bead- 
ing I  sent  a  man  down  there  to  watch,  and  she  called  to 
fetch  it,  and  my  man  found  out  that  she  labeled  it 
*  Oxford,'  and  took  it  away  with  her  on  the  down  train. 
As  he  had  no  directions  to  follow  her  farther  he  came 
back.  After  we  found  the  hole  I. sent  him  down  again; 
but  he  never  came  upon  her  traces,  though  he  inquired 
at  every  village  near  Oxford." 

"  She  may  have  been  put  there  as  a  spy/'  the  other 


266  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

said;  "  but  as  it  is  evident  that  she  couldn't  hear  through 
that  hole,  it  is  clear  that  she  could  not  have  done  them 
any  good.  That  is,  I  suppose,  why  they  called  her  off; 
so  the  puzzle  still  remains  how  they  got  on  my  track  at 
Tilbury.  I  should  like  to  have  a  good  look  at  this  Cov- 
ington girl.  I  can  admire  a  clever  wench,  even  when  she 
is  working  against  me." 

"  There  is  '  The  Huguenots  '  at  Her  Majesty's  to-night 
the  first  time  this  season.  She  very  often  goes  in  Lady 
Moulton's  box,  and  it  is  likely  enough  that  she  will  go 
to-night.  It's  the  third  box  from  the  stage,  on  the  first 
tier;  I  will  go  down  to  Bond  Street  and  see  if  I  can  get 
hold  of  a  box  opposite,  on  the  second  or  third  tier.  The 
money  will  be  well  laid  out,  for  I  should  very  much  like 
you  to  study  her  face,  and  I  won  enough  at  pool  at  the 
club  tliis  afternoon  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Very  well,  then  I  will  come  round  to  your  place.  I 
really  am  curious  to  see  the  girl.  I  only  caught  a  passing 
glimpse  of  her  in  the  park  that  day." 

Simcoe  was  not  wrong  in  his  conjecture,  for  Hilda 
dined  at  Lady  Moulton's,  and  they  took  their  places  in 
the  latter's  box  just  as  the  first  bar  of  the  overture 
sounded.  She  was  in  half  mourning  now,  and  in  black 
lace,  with  white  camellias  in  her  hair  and  breast,  was,  ar: 
Netta  had  told  her  before  starting,  looking  her  best 

"  That  is  the  girl,"  Simcoe  exclaimed,  as  she  wen ; 
forward  to  the  front  of  the  box. 

"  Well,  there  is  no  denying  that  she  is  good-looking/; 
the  other  said,  as  he  turned  his  glasses  upon  her;  "  there 
is  not  a  better-looking  woman  in  the  house.  Plenty  c: 
self-possession  too,"  he  added,  as  Hilda  took  her  seai; 
and  at  once,  in  apparent  ignorance  that  any  glasses  were 
.upon  her,  took  her  own  lorgnettes  from  their  case  ant, 
proceeded  calmly  to  scan  the  stalls  and  boxes,  to  s^c 
who  among  her  numerous  acquaintances  were  there.  A? 
iier  eyes  fell  upon  the  two  men  sitting  nearly  opposite  t  j 
iher,  her  glasses  steadied,  then  after  a  minute  she  lowered 
them. 

"Lady  Moulton,  I  regard  it  as  a  providence  that  ~  '  >' 


A  BOX  AT  THE  OPERA  267 

brougnt  me  here  this  evening.  Do  you  see  those  two 
men  there  in  the  box  nearly  opposite,  in  the  second  tier? 
Well,  one  of  the  men  is  Simcoe,  to  whom  my  uncle  left 
all  his  property  if  Walter  should  not  live  to  come  oil 
age.  and  who  I  am  absolutely  convinced  carried  the  child 
away." 

"I  see  them,  my  dear;  they  arc  staring  at  you.  I 
suppose  they  are  as  much  interested  in  you  as  you  in 
them." 

Hilda  again  put  her  glasses  to  her  eyes. 

-  ie  has  just  told  Lady  Moulton  who  I  am,"  Simcoe 
said. 

She  has  a  clever  face,  Simcoe — broad  across  the 
chin — any  amount  of  determination,  I  should  say.  Ah! 
there,  she  is  getting  up  to  make  room  for  somebody 
else." 

ay  where  you  are,  my  dear,"  Lady  Moulton 
putting  her  hand  on  Hilda's   arm;  "  there  is  plent 
room  for  three." 

"  Plenty,"  she  replied;  "  but  I  want  to  watch  those  two 
men.  and  I  cannot  keep  my  glasses  fixed  on  them  while  I 
am  sitting  in  the  front  row." 

[ardly,  my  dear,"  Lady  Moulton  said  with  a  smile. 
"  Well,  have  your  own  wa 

A  fourth  lady  came  in  almost  immediately.  She  took 
the  third  chair  in  the  front,  and  Hilda,  sitting  half  in 
the  shade,  was  able  to  devote  herself  to  her  purpose  free 
from  general  observation.  She  had  already  heard  that 
Simcoe's  companion  had  apparently  suspected  that  he 
was  watched,  and  had  returned  to  town  at  once  without 
speaking  to  anyone  at  Tilbury.  She  felt  that  he  would 
probably  henceforth  choose  some  other  route,  and  the 
chances  of  following  him  would  be  greatly  dimini 
The  opportunity  was  a  fortunate  one 

she  had  been  hoping  that  some  day  or  other  she  could 
watch  these  men  talking,  and  now,  as  it  seem; 
dent,  just  at  the  moment  when  her  hopes 
chance  had  come  to  her. 

"She  has  Ranged  her  place  in  order  to  have  a  b< 


20 &  THE  LOST  HEIR 

look  at  us,"  John  Simcoe  said,  as  she  moved.  ■•  She  has 
got  her  glasses  on  us." 

"  We  came  to  stare  at  her.  It  s.eems  to  me  that  she 
is  staring  at  us,"  Harrison  said. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  that  she  knows  my  face  pretty 
well  by  this  time,"  Simcoe  laughed.  "  I  told  you  she 
has  a  way  of  looking  through  one  that  has  often  made 
me  uncomfortable." 

"  I  can  quite  understand  that.  I  noticed  myself  that 
when  she  looked  at  us,  without  her  glasses,  there  was  a 
curious  intentness  in  her  expression,  as  if  she  was  taking 
stock  of  every  point  about  us.  She  cannot  be  the  girl 
who  has  been  to  your  lodriug." 

"Certainly  not,"  the  otker  said;  "I  know  her  a  great 
deal  too  well  for  her  to  try  that  on.  Besides,  beyond  the 
fact  that  the  other  was  a  good-looking  girl  too — and,  by 
the  way,  that  she  had  the  same  trick  of  looking  full  in 
your  face  when  you  spoke — there  was  no  resemblance 
whatever  between  them." 

The  curtain  now  drew  up,  and  silence  fell  upon  the 
house,  and  the  men  did  not  speak  again  until  the  end  of 
the  first  act.  They  then  continued  their  conversation 
where  they  had  left  it  off. 

"  She  has  moved,  and  has  been  attending  to  the  opera," 
Simcoe  said;  "  but  she  has  gone  into  the  shade  again, 
and  is  taking  another  look  at'  us." 

"  I  am  not  given  to  nervousness,  but  upon  my  word 
those  glasses  fixed  upon  me  make  me  quite  fidgety." 

"  Pooh,  man!  she  is  not  looking  at  you;  she  is  looking 
at  me.  I  don't  know  whether  she  thinks  that  she  can 
read  my  thoughts,  and  find  out  where  the  child  is  hidden. 
By  the  way,  I  know  nothing  about  this  place  Pitsea. 
Where  is  it,  and  which  is  the  best  way  to  get 
there?" 

"  You  can  drive  straight  down  by  road  through  Upmin- 
ster  and  Laindon.  The  place  lies  about  three  miles  this 
side  of  Benfieet.  There  are  only  about  half  a  dozen 
houses,  at  the  end  of  a  creek  that  comes  up.  from  Hole 
Haven.     But   I   should    not   think   of   £roing   near   the 


A  BOX  AT  TEE  OPERA  J69 

house.  The  latter,  directed  as  I  told  you,  is  sure  to  find 
the  man." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  thinking  of  going!  but  I  shall  get  a 
man  to  watch  the  fellows  they  sent  down  to  watch  you, 
and  if  I  find  that  they  seem  to  be  getting  on  the  right 
track,  I  shall  run  down  at  all  hazards  and  take  him 
away." 

"  Your  best  plan  by  far  will  be  to  go  with  him,  on 
board  Nibson's  barge,  up  to  Rochester.  No  doubt  he 
can  find  some  bargeman  there  who  will  take  the  boy  in. 
Or,  what  would  perhaps  be  better,  hire  a  trap  there,  and 
drive  him  down  to  Margate  or  Ramsgate.  There  are 
plenty  of  schools  there,  and  you  might  get  up  a  yarn 
about  his  being  a  nephew  of  yours,  and  leave  him  there 
for  a  term  or  two.  That  would  give  you  time  to  decide. 
By  this  time  he  will  have  but  a  very  faint  remembrance 
of  his  life  in  town,  and  anything  that  he  may  say  about 
it  will  certainly  meet  with  no  attention." 

"  Would  it  be  as  well  to  do  it  at  once,  do  you  think?  " 
Simcoe  asked. 

"  No;  we  have  no  idea  how  many  people  they  may 
have  on  the  watch,  and  it  would  be  only  running  unneces- 
sary risks.  Stick  to  the  plan  that  we  have  already  agreed 
on,  of  communicating  only  by  writing.  But  I  think  your 
idea  of  sending  two  or  three  sharp  fellows  down  there  to 
find  out  what  the  party  are  doing  is  really  a  good  one." 

Hilda  lowered  her  glasses  as  the  curtain  rose'  again. 
"  Oh,  Lady  Moulton!  "  she  whispered,  "  I  have  found  out 
all  that  I  have  been  so  long  wanting  to  know.  I  believe 
now  that  in  three  days  I  shall  have  the  child  home  again." 

Lady  Moulton  turned  half  round. 

"How  on  earth  have  you  found  that  out,  Hilda?  Arc 
you  a  wizard  indeed,  who  can  read  men's  thoughts  in 
their  faces?  I  always  thought  that  there  was  something 
uncanny  about  you,  ever  since  that  day  of  my  fete." 

To  Harrison's  relief,  Miss  Covington  did  not  turn  her 
glass  towards  him  again  during  the  evening.  When  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  next  act  a  gentleman,  to  whom  Lady 
Moulton  had  nodded  in  the  stalls,  came  in.    After  shaking 


270  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

hands  with  her  and  her  friends,  he  seated  himself  by  the 
side  of  Hilda. 

■■  Miss  Covington,"  he  said,  "  I  have  never  had  an  op- 
portunity of  speaking  to  you  since  that  fete  at  Lady 
Moulton's.  I  have  understood  that  the  gypsy  on  that 
occasion  was  engaged  by  you,  and  that  there  was,  if  you 
will  excuse  me  saying  so,  some  little  mystery  about  it.  I 
don't  wish  to  pry  into  that,  but  if  you  should  ever  see 
the  woman  again  you  will  oblige  me  very  greatly  by  tell- 
ing her  that  I  consider  I  owe  her  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude. 
She  said  something  to  me  then  that  made  a  tremendous 
impression  upon  me,  and  I  do  not  mind  telling  you  it 
brought  me  up  with  a  round  turn.  I  had  been  going  ahead 
a  great  deal  too  fast,  and  I  see  now  that,  had  I  continued 
on  the  same  course.  I  should  have  brought  absolute  ruin 
upon  myself,  and  blighted  my  life  in  every  way.  The  shock 
she  gave  me  by  warning  me  what  would  come  if  I  did 
nor  give  up  cards  and  racing  showed  me  my  utter  folly,  and 
on  that  day  I  swore  never  to  touch  a  card  or  lay  a  penny 
upon  a  horse  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  When  I  tell  you 
that  I  have  completely  pulled  myself  round,  and  that,  by 
the  aid  of  an  old  uncle,  to  whom  I  went  and  made  a  clean 
breast  of  all,  I  am  now  straight  in  every  way,  and,  as  you 
may  have  heard,  am  going  to  be  married  to  Miss  Fortescue 
in  a  fortnight,  you  may  guess  what. deep  reason  I  have 
to  be  grateful  to  this  gypsy  woman  of  yours,  and  how  I 
hope  that,  should  you  come  across  her  again,  you  will  tell 
her  so,  and  should  there  be  any  possible  way  in  which 
I  can  prove  my  gratitude,  by  money  or  otherwise,  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  do  so." 

"  I  will  tell  her,  Captain  Desmond,"  the  girl  said  in  a 
low  voice.  "  I  am  sure  that  it  will  make  her  happy  to 
know  that  she  did  some  good  that  evening.  I  do  not 
think  that  she  is  in  need  of  money  or  assistance  of  any 
kind,  but  should  she  be  so  I  will  let  you  know." 

"  And  do  you  really  mean  that  you  have  discovered 
where  General  Mathieson's  grandson  is  living?"  Lady 
Moulton  asked,  as  they  rose  to  leave  their  seats  when  the 
curtain  fell. 


A  BOX  AT  THE  OPERA.  271 

•*  i  think  so;  I  am  almost  sure  of  it." 

Lady  Moulton  had  heard  a  good  deal  from  Hilda  as 
to  the  situation.  Mr.  Pettigrew  had  strongly  impr 
upon  both  Hilda  and  Colonel  Bulstrode  that  it  was  very 
important  that  the  contents  of  the  will  should  not  be 
talked  about.  "We  don't  want  our  private  affairs  dis- 
cussed in  the  press  and  made  the  subject  of  general  talk," 
he  had  said,  and  it  was  only  to  Lady  Moulton  that  Hilda 
had  spoken  freely  of  the  matter,  so  far  as  the  discovery 
of  the  new  will,  the  change  that  had  been  made,  and  the 
singularity  of  Walter  being  missing.  She  had  also  men- 
tioned her  belief  that  Simcoe  was  at  the  bottom  of  ibis, 
but  had  breathed  no  words  of  her  suspicion  that  the  Gen- 
eral had  come  to  his  death  by  foul  play,  or  of  her  own 
conviction  that  Simcoe  was  an  impostor,  although  there 
had  been  some  talk  in  the  clubs  over  the  matter,  for 
Colonel  Bulstrode  was  by  no  means  so  discreet  as  Hilda, 
and  among  his  intimate  friends  spoke  his  mind  with  great 
vehemence  and  strength  of  language  as  to  General 
Mathieson  having  made  so  singular  a  disposition  of  his 
property,  and  he  made  no  secret  of  his  suspicion  that 
Simcoe  was  at  the  bottom  of  Walter's  disappearance. 
Thus  the  matter  had  gradually  gone  the  ronnd  of  the 
clubs;  but  it  was  not  until  Simcoe's  own  counsel  had 
drawn  from  him  the  fact  that  Walter's  death  would  put 
him  into  possession  of  the  estate  that  the  public  in  gen- 
eral learned  the  facts. 

"  It  was  a  clever  move,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  had  said,  talk- 
ing it  over  with  his  partner.  "  No  doubt  he  was  afraid 
that  the  question  would  be  asked  by  our  counsel,  and  he 
thought  that  it  was  better  that  the  fact  should  come 
voluntarily  from  himself.  His  best  plan  by  far  was  to 
brazen  it  out.  No  doubt  nine  men  out  of  ten  will  con- 
sider that  the  affair  is  a  very  suspicious  one,  and  some  of 
them  will  give  him  the  cold  shoulder;  but  whatever  their 
opinions,  they  dare  not  express  them  without  laying  them- 
selves open  to  an  action  for  libel,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  fact  that  a  man  is  heir  to  ;i  good  estate  will 
always  eause  a  good  many  to  rally  round  him.     Not  the 


272  THE  LOST  HEIR 

best  of  men,  you  know,  but  enough  to  prevent  Ms  oeing 
a  lonely  figure  in  a  club. 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  was  certainly  well  advised  to  declare 
his  heirship  voluntarily,  instead  of  having  it  drawn  from 
him.  He  must  have  known,  of  course,  that  sooner  or 
later  the  matter  would  be  made  public,  and  it  is  better 
for  him  to  get  the  talk  and  gossip  over  now  instead  of 
the  matter  being  known  for  the  first  time  when  he  begins 
to  take  legal  steps  to  compel  us  to  put  him  into  possession 
of  the  estate." 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  mean,  Hilda,"  Lady  Moultoni 
said,  as  the  door  of  the  carriage  was  closed  and  they 
drove  off  from  Her  Majesty's,  "by  saying  that  you  hadi 
discovered  a  clew  by  which  you  might  in  a  few  days  find' 
your  little  cousin?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  exactly  how  I  discovered  it.  At 
present  it  is  a  secret  that  both  my  mother  and  uncle 
charged  me  to  keep,  but  when  these  troubles  are  over  I 
will  explain  it  all  to  you,  though  I  should  certainly  do  s« 
to  no  one  else." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  be  content  with  that,  Hilda. 
But  it  certainly  does  seem  extraordinary  to  me  that  by 
merely  seeing  two  men  in  a.  box  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house  you  should  have ,  obtained  a  clew  to  what  you  have 
for  a  year  now  been  trying  to  get  at." 

"  It  does  seem  extraordinary,  Lady  Moulton,  but  it 
really  is  not  so,  and  I  hope  to  convince  you  that  I  am 
right  by  producing  Walter  in  a  week  from  the  present 
time." 

"I  hope  you  will,  Hilda.  I  sincerely  hope  so,  both1 
for  the  child's  sake,  yours,  and  my  own.  Of  course, 
when  he  is  found  there  will  be  no  possible  reason  for  jour 
keeping  yourself  shut  up  as  you  have  done.  I  have  missed 
you  very  much,  and  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  under 
my  wing  again." ' 

"Thank  you  for  saying  so,  Lady  Moulton;  but  so  far 
as  I  have  formed  my  plans,  they  are  that  Walter's  trus- 
tees shall  either  let  or  sell  the  house  in  Hyde  Park  Gar- 
dens., and  that  I  shall  go  down  for  a  time  with  him  into 


A  BOX  AT  TEE  OPEE^.  213 

the  couniry.     I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  anxiety  this 
car,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  of  complete  rest  for  a 
time." 

"  That  is  reasonable  enough,  my  dear,  but  I  do  hope 
that  ycu  are  not  thinking  of  burying  yourself  in  the 
country  for  good.  There,  I  am  at  home.  Gocd-night, 
Hilda;  thanks  for  the  lift.  It  is  not  often  my  horses  or 
my  coachmen  have  a  night  off  during  the  seas. 


CHAPTEE   XXII. 

NEAPING    THE    GOAL. 

*'I  suppose  Miss  Netta  is  in  bed?  "  Hilda  asked,  as  she 
entered  the  house. 

"  Yes,  miss;  she  and  Miss  Purcell  went  to  their  rooms 
soon  after  ten  o'clock." 

Hilda  ran  upstairs  to  Netta's  room. 

"  Are  you  awake,  Netta  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  opened 
the  door. 

ell,  1  think  I  was  asleep,  Hilda;  I  didn't  intend  to 
go  off,  for  I  made  sure  that  you  would  come  in  for  a  chat, 
as  usual,  when  you  got  back;  but  I  think  I  must  have 
dozed  off." 

"  Well,  if  you  had  been  so  sound  asleep  that  I  had 

had  to  violently  wake  you  up,  I  should  have  done  so.    I 

had  my  chance,  Netta.     Simcoe  and  his  friend  were 

in  a   box  opposite  to   ours,  and  I  have  learned  where 

er  is." 

"  That  is  news  indeed,"  Netta  exclaimed,  leaping  up; 
"  that  is  worth  being  awakened  a  hundred  times  for. 
Please  hand  me  my  dressing-gown.  Now  let  us  sit  down 
and  talk  it  over  comfortably." 

Hilda  then  repeated  the  whole  conversation  that  she 
had  overheard. 

"  Splendid! "  Netta  exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands; 
"  and  that  man  was  fight,  de.ar,  in  feeling  uncomfortable 
when  your  glasses  were  fixed  on  his  face,  though  he  little 
guessed  what  reason  he  had  for  the  feeling.  Well,  it  is 
worth  all  the  four  years  you  spent  with  us  to  have  learned 
to  read  people's  words  from  their  lips.  I  always  said  that 
you  were  my  best  pupil,  and  you  have  proved  it  so  now. 
What  is  to  be  done  next  ?  " 

"  We  shall  need  a  general  council  for  that' ?s  Hilda 

874 


NEAEING   TEE  00  275 

laughed.  "  We  must  do  nothing  rash  now  that  success 
seems  so  closo:  a  false  move  might  spoil  everything." 

"  Yes,  we  shall  have  to  be  very  careful.  This  bargeman 
may  not  live  near  there  at  all;  though  no  doubt  he  goes 
there  pretty  often,  as  letters  are  sent  there  for  him.  Be- 
sides, Simcoe  may  have  someone  stationed  there  to  find 
out  whether  any  inquiries  have  been  made  for  a  missing 
child." 

"  Yes,  I  see  that  we  shall  have  to  be  very  careful, 
Netta,  and  we  must  not  spoil  our  chances  by  being  over 
hasty." 

They  talked  for  upwards  of  an  hour,  and  then  went  to 
their  beds.  The  next  morning  Roberts  took  a  note  to 
Dr.  Leeds.    It  contained  only  a  few  lines  from  Hilda: 

"My  Deab  Dr.  Leeds:  We  have  found  a  most  im- 
portant clew,  and  are  going  to  have  a  consultation,  at 
which,  of  course,  we  want  you  to  be  present.  Could  you 
manage  to  be  at  Mr.  Pettigrew's  office  at  three  o'clock? 
If  so,  on  hearing  from  you,  I  will  send  to  him  to  make  an 
appointment." 

The  answer  came  back: 

"  I  congratulate  you  heartily,  and  will  meet  you  at 
three  o'clock  at  Pettigrew's  office.'" 

A  note  was  at  once  sent  off  to  the  lawyer's  to  make 
the  appointment,  and  the  girls  arrived  with  Miss  Purcell 
two  or  three  minutes  before  the  hour,  and  were  at  once 
shown  into  Mr.  Pettigrew's  room,  where  Mr.  Farmer  im- 
mediately joined  them. 

"  I  will  wait  a  minute  or  two  before  I  begin,"  Hilda 
said.  "  I  have  asked  Dr.  Leeds  to  join  us  here.  He  has 
been  so  very  kind  throughout  the  whole  matter  that  we 
thought  it  was  only  fair  that  he  should  be  here." 

"  Certainly,  I  thoroughly  agree  with  you.  I  never 
thought  that  terrible  suspicion  of  his  well  founded,  but 
he  certainly  took  immense  pains  in  collecting  information 


276  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

of  all  sorts  about  these  native  poisons,  and  since  then  has 
shown  the  greatest  desire  to  assist  in  any  way." 

A  minute  later  Dr.  Leeds  was  shown  in. 

"  Now,  Miss  Covington,"  Mr.  Farmer  said,  "  we  are 
ready  to  hear  your  communication." 

Hilda  then  related  what  she  had  learned  at  the  opera. 

"  Really,  Miss  Covington,"  Mr.  Farmer  continued,  "  it 
is  a  thousand  pities  that  you  and  your  friend  cannot 
utilize  your  singular  accomplishment  in  the  detective  line. 
You  ought  to  make  a  fortune  by  it.  I  have,  of  course, 
heard  from  my  partner  of  the  education  that  you  had  in- 
Germany,  and  of  your  having  acquired  some  new  system 
by  which  you  can  understand  what  people  are  saying  by 
watching  their  lips,  but  I  certainly  had  no  conception 
that  it  could  be  carried  to  such  an  extent  as  you  have 
just  proved  it  can.  It  is  like  gaining  a  new  sense.  Now 
I  suppose  you  have  come  to  us  for  advice  as  to  what  had 
best  be  done  next." 

"  That  is  it,  Mr.  Farmer.  I\  is  quite  evident  to  us  that 
we  must  be  extremely  careful,  for  if  these  people  suspect 
that  we  are  so  far  on  their  tracOz,  they  might  remove 
"Walter  at  once,  and  we  might  never  be  able  to  light  upon 
a  clew  again." 

"  Yes,  I  see  that.  Of  course,  if  we  were  absolutely  in  a 
position  to  prove  that  this  child  has  been  kept  down  near 
ritsea  with  their  cognizance  we  could  arrest  them  at 
once;  but,  unfortunately,  in  the  words  you  heard  there 
was  no  mention  of  the  child,  and  at  present  we  have 
nothing  but  a  series  of  small  circumstantial  facts  to 
adduce.  You  believe,  Mr.  Pettigrew  tells  me,  that  the 
man  who  calls  himself  John  Simcoe  is  an  impostor  who 
has  no  right  to  the  name,  and  that  General  Mathieson 
was  under  a  complete  delusion  when  he  made  that  ex- 
traordinary will.  You  believe  that,  or  at  any  rate  you 
have  a  suspicion  that,  having  got  the  General  to  make 
the  will,  he  administered  some  unknown  drug  that  finally 
caused  his  death.  You  believe  that,  as  this  child  alone 
stood  between  him  and  the  inheritance,  he  had  him  car- 
ried off  with  the  assistance  of  the  other  man. -"You  be- 


FEARING   THE  GOAL.  277 

lieve  that  the  body  the  coroner's  jury  decided  to  be  that 
of  Walter  Rivington  was  not  his,  and  that  the  child  him- 
self is  being  kept  out  of  the  way  somewhere  in  Essex, 
and  you  believe  that  the  conversation  that  you  most 
singularly  overheard  related  to  him. 

"  But,  unfortunately,  all  these  beliefs  are  unsupported 
by  a  single  legal  fact,  and  I  doubt  very  much  whether 
any  magistrate  would  issue  a  warrant  for  these  men's 
arrest  upon  your  story  being  laid  before  him.  Even  if 
they  were  arrested,  some  confederate  might  hasten  down 
to  Pitsea  and  carry  the  child  off;  and,  indeed,  Pitsea  may 
only  be  the  meeting-place  of  these  conspirators,  and  the 
child  may  be  at  Limehouse  or  at  Chatham,  or  at  any  other 
place  frequented  by  barges.  Therefore  we  must  for  the 
present  give  up  all  idea  of  seizing  these  men.  Any  re- 
searches at  Pitsea  itself  are  clearly  attended  by  danger, 
and  yet  I  see  no  other  way  of  proceeding." 

"  It  seems/'  Dr.  Leeds  said,  "  that  this  other  man,  who 
appears  to  have  acted  as  Simcoe's  agent  throughout  the 
affair,  took  the  alarm  the  other  day,  and  instead  of  taking 
a  trap  as  usual  from  Tilbury,  returned  to  the  station, 
took  the  ferry  across  to  Gravesend,  and  then,  as  we  sup- 
pose, came  up  to  town  again,  told  Simcoe  that  he  found 
he  was  watched,  and  that  Simcoe  must  himself  take  the 
matter  up.  Evidently,  by  what  Miss  Covington  overheard, 
he  had  instructed  him  where  and  how  to  communicate 
with  this  bargeman,  or  in  case  of  necessity  to  find  him. 
I  should  think  that  the  first  step  would  be  to  withdraw 
the  men  now  on  watch,  for  it  is  possible  that  they  may 
also  send  down  men  to  places  in  the  locality  of  Pitsea. 
In  point  of  fact,  your  men  have  been  instructed  to  make 
no  such  inquiries,  but  only  to  endeavor  to  trace  where 
Simcoe's  agent  drives  to.  Still,  I  think  it  would  be  as 
well  to  withdraw  them  at  once,  as  they  can  do  no  further 
good." 

Mr.  Pettigrew  nodded. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  Pitsea,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  but 
I  do  know  Hole  Haven.  When  I  was  walking  the  hos- 
pital, three  or  four  of  us  had  a  little  sailing-boat,  and 


278  TEE  LOST  EEIR, 

used  to  go  out  from  Saturday  until  Monday  morning. 
Hole  Haven  was  generally  the  limit  of  our  excursions. 
It  is  a  snug  little  harbor  for  small  boats,  and  there  is 
a  comfortable  old-fashioned  little  inn  there,  where  we 
used  to  sleep.  The  coastguards  were  all  sociable  fellows, 
ready  to  chat  with  strangers  and  not  averse  to  a  small 
tip.  Of  course  the  same  men  will  not  be  there  now,  nor 
would  it  be  very  safe  to  ask  questions  of  them;  for  no 
doubt  they  are  on  friendly  terms  with  the  men  on  the 
barges  which  go  up  and  down  the  creek.  I  might,  how- 
ler, learn  something  from  them  of  the  ways  of  these 
men,  and  I  should  think  that,  on  giving  my  card  to  the 
petty  officer  in  charge,  I  could  safely  question  him.  I 
don't  suppose  that  he  would  know  where  this  man  Nibson 
has  his  headquarters.  If  he  lives  at  Eochester,  or  Chat- 
ham, or  at  Limehouse,  or  Shadwell,  he  certainly  would 
not  know  him;  but  if  he  lives  at  Pitsea  he  might  know 
him.  I  fancy  they  keep  a  pretty  sharp  lookout  on  the 
barges.  I  know  that  the  coastguard  told  me  that  there 
was  still  a  good  deal  of  smuggling  carried  on  in  the 
marshes  between  Leigh  and  Thames  Haven.  I  fancy,  from 
what  he  said,  that  the  Leigh  fishermen  think  it  no  harm 
to  run  a  few  pounds  of  tobacco  or  a  keg  of  spirit  from  a 
massing  ship,  and,  indeed,  as  there  are  so  many  vessels 
Aat  go  ashore  on  the  sands  below,  and  as  they  are  gen- 
erally engaged  in  unloading  them  or  helping  them  to  get 
off,  they  have  considerable  facilities  that  way.  At  any 
rate,  as  an  old  frequenter  of  the  place  and  as  knowing 
the  landlord — that  is  to  say  if  there  has  been  no  change 
there — no  suspicion  could  fall  upon  me  of  going  down 
there  in  reference  to  your  affair.  To-day  is  Friday.  On 
Sunday  morning,  early,  I  will  run  down  to  Gravesend, 
hire  a  boat  there,  and  will  sail  down  to  Hole  Haven.  It 
will  be  an  outing  for  me,  and  a  pleasant  one;  and  at  least 
I  can  be  doing  no  harm." 

"  Thank  you  very  much  indeed,  Dr.  Leeds,"  Hilda  said 
warmly;  "  that  is  a  splendid  idea." 

On  Sunday  evening  Dr.  Leeds  called  at  Hydf  ^ark 
Gardens  to  report  his  day's  work. 


NEARINO   TEE  GOAL.  279 

"  I  think  that  my  news  is  eminently  satisfactory.  I 
saw  the  petty  officer  in  command  of  the  coastguard 
station;,  and  he  willingly  gave  me  all  the  information  in 
his  power.  He  knew  the  bargee,  Bill  Nibson.  He  is  up 
and  down  the  creek,  he  says,  once  and  sometimes  twice  a 
week.  He  has  got  a  little  bit  of  a  farm  and  a  house  on 
the  bank  of  the  creek  a  mile  and  a  half  on  this  side  of 
Pitsea.  They  watch  him  pretty  closely,  as  they  do  all 
the  men  who  use  the  creek;  there  is  not  one  of  them  who 
does  not  carry  on  a  bit  of  smuggling  if  he  gets  the 
chance. 

"  '  I  thought  that  was  almost  given  up/  I  said.  '  Oh, 
no;  it  is  carried  on,'  he  replied,  '  on  a  much  smaller  scale 
than  it  used  to  be,  but  there  is  plenty  of  it,  and  I  should 
say  that  there  is  more  done  that  way  on  the  Thames 
than  anywhere  else.  In  the  first  place,  Dutch,  German, 
and  French  craft  coming  up  the  channels  after  dark  can 
have  no  difficulty  whatever  in  transferring  tobacco  and 
spirits  into  barges  or  fishing-boats.  I  need  hardly  say 
it  is  not  ships  of  any  size  that  carry  on  this  sort  of  busi- 
ness, but  small  vessels,  such  as  billy-boys  and  craft  of 
that  sort.  They  carry  their  regular  cargoes,  and  proba- 
bly never  bring  more  than  a  few  hundredweight  of 
tobacco  and  a  dozen  or  so  kegs  of  spirits.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  their  owners  know  anything  of  what  is  being 
done,  and  I  should  say  that  it  is  generally  a  sort  of  specu- 
lation on  the  part  of  the  skipper  and  men.  On  this  side 
the  trade  is  no  doubt  in  the  hands  of  men  who  either 
work  a  single  barge  or  fishing-boat  of  their  own,  or  who 
certainly  work  it  without  the  least  suspicion  on  the  part 
of  the  owners. 

" '  The  thing  is  so  easily  arranged.  A  man  before  he 
starts  from  Ostend  or  Hamburg,  or  the  mouth  of  the 
Seine,  sends  a  line  to  his  friends  here,  at  Eochester  or 
Limehouse  or  Leigh,  "  Shall  sail  to-night.  Expect  to 
come  up  the  south  channel  on  Monday  evening."  The 
bargeman  or  fisherman  runs  down  at  the  time  arranged, 
and  five  or  six  miles  below  the  Nore  brings  up  and  shows 
a  light.    He  knows  that  the  craft  he  expects  will  not  be 


280  THE  LOST  HEIR- 

up  before  that  time,  for  if  the  wind  was  extremely  favora- 
ble, and  they  made  the  run  quicker  than  they  expected, 
they  would  bring  up  in  Margate  Roads  till  the  time  ap- 
pointed. If  they  didn't  arrive  that  night,  they  would  do 
so  the  next,  and  the  barge  would  lay  there  and  wait  for 
them,  or  the  fishermen  would  go  into  Sheerness  or  Leigh 
and  come  out  again  the  next  night. 

" '  You  might  wonder  how  a  barge  could  waste  twenty- 
four  or  forty-eight  hours  without  being  called  to  ac- 
count by  its  owners,  but  there  are  barges  which  will 
anchor  up  for  two  or  three  days  under  the  pretense  that 
the  weather  is  bad,  but  really  from  sheer  laziness. 

" '  That  is  one  way  the  stuff  comes  into  the  country, 
and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  there  is  no  way  whatever  of 
stopping  it.  The  difficulty,  of  course,  is  with  the  landing, 
and  even  that  is  not  great.  -When  the  tide  turns  to  run 
out  there  are  scores,  I  may  say  hundreds,  of  barges 
anchored  between  Chatham  and  G-ravesend.  They  gen- 
erally anchor  close  in  shore,  and  it  would  require  twenty 
times  the  number  of  coastguards  there  are  between 
Chatham  and  Gravesend  on  one  side,  and  Foulness  and 
Tilbury  on  the  other,  to  watch  the  whole  of  them  and  to 
see  that  boats  do  not  come  ashore. 

" '  A  few  strokes  and  they  are  nhere.  One  man  will 
wait  in  the  boat  while  the  other  goes  up  onto  the  bank 
to  see  that  all  is  clear.  If  it  is,  the  things  are  carried  up 
at  once.  Probably  the  barge  has  put  up  some  flag  that 
is  understood  by  friends  ashore;  they  are  there  to  meet 
it,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  kegs  are  either  stowed  away 
in  lonely  farmhouses  or  sunk  in  some  of  the  deep  ditches, 
and  there  they  will  remain  until  they  can  be  fished  up 
and  sent  off  in  a  cart  loaded  with  hay  or  something  of 
that  sort.  You  may  take  it  that  among  the  marshes  on 
the  banks  of  the  Medway  and  Thames  there  is  a  pretty 
good  deal  done  in  the  way  of  smuggling  still.  We  keep 
a  very  close  eye  upon  all  the  barges  that  come  up  here, 
but  it  is  very  seldom  that  we  make  any  catch.  One  can- 
not seize  a  barge  like  the  Mary  Ann,  that  is  the  boat  be- 
longing to  Nibson,  with  perhaps  sixty  tons  of  manure  or 


NEAEING   THE  GOAL,  281 

cement  or  bricks,  and  unload  it  without  some  specific 
information  that  would  justify  our  doing  so.  Indeed, 
we  hardly  could  unload  it  unless  we  took  it  out  into  the 
Thames  and  threw  the  contents  overboard.  We  could 
not  carry  it  up  this  steep,  stonefaced  bank,  and  higher  up 
there  are  very  few  places  where  a  barge  could  lie  along- 
side the  bank  to  be  unloaded.  We  suspect  Nibson  of 
doing  something  that  way,  but  we  have  never  been  able 
to  catch  him  at  it.  We  have  searched  his  place  suddenly 
three  or  four  times,  but  never  found  anything  sus- 
picious.' 

"  '  May  I  ask  what  family  the  man  has  ? '  I  said. 

"  He  shook  his  head.  '  There  is  his  wife — I  have  seen 
her  once  or  twice  on  board  the  barge  as  it  has  come  in 
and  out — and  there  is  a  boy,  who  helps  him  on  the  barge 
— I  don't  know  whether  he  is  his  son  or  not.  I  have  no 
idea  whether  he  has  any  family,  but  I  have  never  seen  a 
child  on  the  barge.' 

"  All  this  seemed  to  be  fairly  satisfactory.  I  told  him 
that  we  suspected  that  a  stolen  child  was  kept  in  Nibson's 
house,  and  asked  him  whether  one  of  his  men  off  duty 
would,  at  any  time,  go  with  me  in  a  boat  and  point  out 
the  house.  He  said  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
about  that.  My  idea,  Miss  Covington,  was  that  it  would 
be  by  far  the  best  plan  for  us  to  go  down  with  a  pretty 
strong  party — that  is  to  say,  two  or  three  men — and  to 
go  from  Gravesend  in  a  boat,  arriving  at  Hole  Haven  at 
eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  I  should  write  before- 
hand to  the  coastguard  officer,  asking  him  to  have  a  man 
in  readiness  to  guide  us,  and  then  row  up  to  the  house. 
In  that  way  we  should  avoid  all  chance  of  a  warning  being 
sent  on  ahead  from  Pitsea,  or  from  any  other  place  where 
they  might  have  men  on  watch. 

"  I  mentioned  this  to  the  officer,  and  he  said,  '  Well, 
I  don't  see  how  you  could  break  into  the  man's  house. 
If  the  child  is  not  there  you  might  find  yourself  in  a 
very  awkward  position,  and  if  Nibson  himself  happened 
to  be  at  home  he  would  be  perfectly  justified  in  using 
firearms.'    I  said  of  course  that  was  a  point  I  must  con- 


282  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

sider.  It  is  indeed  a  point  on  which  we  must  take  Mr. 
Pettigrew's  opinion.  But  probably  we  shall  have  to  lay 
an  information  before  the  nearest  magistrate,  though  I 
think  myself  that  if  we  were  to  take  the  officer  into  our 
confidence — and  he  seemed  to  me  a  bluff,  hearty  fellow — 
he  would  take  a  lot  of  interest  in  the  matter,  and  might 
stretch  a  point,  and  send  three  or  four  men  down  after 
daPk  to  search  the  place  again  for  smuggled  goods.  You 
see,  he  has  strong  suspicions  of  the  man,  and  has  searched 
his  place  more  than  once.  Then,  when  they  were  about  it, 
we  could  enter  and  seize  Walter.  Should  there  be  a  mis- 
take altogether,  and  the  child  not  be  found  there,  we  could 
give  the  officer  a  written  undertaking  to  hold  him  free 
in  the  very  unlikely  event  of  the  fellow  making  a  fuss 
about  his  house  being  entered." 

The  next  morning  Hilda  again  drove  up  with  Ketta  to 
see  Mr.  Pettigrew. 

"  We  must  be  careful,  my  dear;  we  must  be  very  care- 
ful," he  said.  "  If  we  obtain  a  search  warrant,  it  can 
only  be  executed  during  the  day,  and  even  if  the  coast- 
guards were  to  make  a  raid  upon  the  place,  we,  as  civil- 
ians, would  not  have  any  right  to  enter  the  house.  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  this  night  business — indeed,  I  do 
not  see  why  it  should  not  be  managed  by  day.  Ap- 
parently, from  what  Dr.  Leeds  said,  this  Hole  Haven  is  a 
place  where  little  sailing-boats  often  go  in.  I  don't  know 
much  of  these  matters,  but  probably  in  some  cases  gen- 
tlemen are  accompanied  by  ladies,  and  no  doubt  some- 
times these  boats  go  up  the  creeks.  Now,  there  must  be 
good-sized  boats  that  could  be  hired  at  G-ravesend,  with 
men  accustomed  to  sailing  them,  and  I  can  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  not  go  down  in  a  party.  I  should  cer- 
tainly wish  to  be  there  myself,  and  think  Colonel  Bul- 
strode  should  be  there.  You  might  bring  your  two  men, 
and  get  an  information  laid  before  an  Essex  magistrate 
and  obtain  a  warrant  to  search  this  man's  place  for  a  child 
supposed  to  be  hidden  there.  By  the  way,  I  have  a  client 
who  is  an  Essex  magistrate;  he  lives  near  Billericay.  I 
will  have  an  information  drawn  out,  and  will  go  myself 


HEARING   THE  GOAL.  283 

with  it  and  see  him;  it  is  only  about  five  miles  to  drive 
from  Brentwood  Station.  If  I  sent  a  clerk  down,  there 
might  be  some  difficulty,  whereas,  when  I  personally  ex- 
plain the  circumstances  to  him,  he  will,  I  am  sure,  grant 
it.  At  the  same  time  I  will  arrange  with  him  that  two 
of  the  county  constabulary  shall  be  at  this  place,  Hole 
Haven,  at  the  time  we  arrive  there,  and  shall  accompany 
us  to  execute  the  warrant.  Let  me  see,"  and  he  turned 
to  his  engagement  book,  "  there  is  no  very  special  matter 
on  for  to-morrow,  and  I  am  sure  that  Mr.  Farmer  will  see 
to  the  little  matters  that  there  are  in  my  department. 
By  the  way,  it  was  a  year  yesterday  since  the  General's 
death,  and  we  have  this  morning  been  served  with  a 
notice  to  show  cause  why  we  should  not  proceed  at  once 
to  distribute  the  various  legacies  under  his  will.  I  don't 
think  that  refers  to  the  bequest  of  the  estates,  though, 
of  course,  it  may  do  so,  but  to  the  ten  thousand  pounds 
to  which  Simcoe  is  clearly  entitled.  Of  course,  we  should 
appear  by  counsel  in  any  case;  but  with  Walter  in  our 
hands  we  can  bring  him  to  his  knees  at  once,  and  he  will 
have  to  wait  some  time  before  he  touches  the  money. 
We  cannot  prevent  his  having  that.  He  may  get  five 
years  for  abducting  the  child,  but  that  does  not  affect 
his  claim  to  the  money." 

"  Unless,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  we  could  prove  that  he  is  not 
John  Simcoe." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  the  lawyer  said,  with  an  indul- 
gent smile.  "Your  other  theories  have  turned  out  very 
successful,  I  am  bound  to  admit;  but  for  this  you  have 
not  a  shadow  of  evidence,  while  he  could  produce  a  dozen 
respectable  witnesses  in  his  favor.  However,  we  need  not 
trouble  ourselves  about  that  now.  As  to  the  abduction 
of  the  child,  while  our  evidence  is  pretty  clear  against 
the  other  man,  we  have  only  the  fact  against  Simcoe  that 
he  was  a  constant  associate  of  his,  and  had  an  immense 
interest  in  the  child  being  lost.  The  other  man  seems 
to  have  acted  as  his  intermediary  all  through,  and  so  far 
as  we  actually  know,  Simcoe  has  never  seen  the  child 
since  he  was  taken  away.    Of  course,  if  Walter  can  prove 


284  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

to  the  contrary,  the  case  is  clear  against  him;  but  with- 
out this  it  is  only  circumstantial,  though  I  fancy  that 
the  jury  would  be  pretty  sure  to  convict.  And  now.  how 
about  the  boat?  Who  will  undertake  that?  "We  are 
rather  busy  at  present,  and  could  scarcely  spare  a  clerk 
to  go  down.'' 

"  "We  will  look  after  that,  Mr.  Pettigrew;  it  is  only  an 
hour's  run  to  Gravesend,  and  it  will  be  an  amusement  for 
us.  We  will  take  Roberts  down  with  us.  What  day  shall 
we  fix  it  for?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  the  sooner  the  better.  I  shall  get  the 
warrant  to-morrow,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  the  con- 
stable should  not  be  at  Hole  Haven  the  next  day,  at,  say, 
two  in  the  afternoon.  So  if  you  go  down  to-morrow 
and  arrange  for  a  boat,  the  matter  may  as  well  be  carried 
out  at  once,  especially  as  I  know  that  3rou  are  burning 
with  anxiety  to  get  the  child  back.  Of  course  this  rascal 
of  a  bargeman  must  be  arrested." 

"  I  should  think  that  would  depend  partly  on  how  he 
has  treated  Walter,"  Hilda  said.  "I  don't  suppose  he 
knows  who  he  is,  or  anything  of  the  circumstances  of 
the  case;  he  is  simply  paid  so  much  to  take  charge  of 
him.  If  he  has  behaved  cruelly  to  him  it  is  of  course 
right  that  he  should  be  punished;  but  if  he  has  been 
kind  to  him  I  don't  see  why  he  should  not  be  let  off. 
Besides,  we  may  want  him  as  a  witness  against  the 
others." 

"  Well,  there  is  something  in  that.  Of  course  we 
might,  if  he  were  arrested,  allow  him  to  turn  Queen's 
evidence,  but  there  is  always  a  certain  feeling  against 
this  class  of  witness.  However,  we  needn't  discuss  that 
now.  I  suppose  that  we  ought  to  allow  an  hour  and  a 
half  or  two  hours  to  get  to  this  place  from  Gravesend, 
but  you  can  find  that  out  when  you  hire  the  boat.  Of 
course,  it  mil  depend  a  good  deal  on  which  way  the  tide 
is.  By  the  way,  you  had  better  look  to  that  at  once; 
for  if  it  is  not  somewhere  near  high  tide  when  we  get 
to  Hole  Haven  there  may  not  be  water  enough  to  row  up 
the  creek." 


HEARING   THE  GOAL.  285 

He  called  in  one  of  the  clerks,  and  told  him  to  go  out 
to  get  him  an  almanac  with  a  tide-table. 

"  I  want  to  know  when  it  will  be  high  water  the  day 
after  to-morrow  at  Gravesend,"  he  said. 

"  I  can  tell  you  that  at  once,  sir.  When  I  came  across 
Waterloo  Bridge  this  morning  at  a  quarter  to  nine  the 
tide  was  running  in.  I  should  say  that  it  was  about 
half-flood,  and  would  be  high  about  twelve  o'clock.  So 
that  it  will  be  high  about  half-past  one  o'clock  on 
"Wednesday.  It  is  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  earlier 
at  Gravesend.  I  don't  know  whether  that  is  near  enough 
for  you,  sir?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  near  enough,  thank  you.  So,  you  see," 
he  went  on  after  the  clerk  had  left  the  room,  "  the  tide 
will  be  just  about  high  when  you  get  to  Gravesend,  and 
you  will  get  there  in  about  an  hour,  I  should  say.  I 
don't  know  exactly  how  far  this  place  is,  but  I  should 
say  seven  or  eight  miles;  and  with  a  sail,  or,  if  the  wind 
is  contrary,  a  couple  of  oars,  you  will  not  be  much 
above  an  hour,  and  I  should  think  that  there  will  be  still 
plenty  of  water  in  the  creek.  You  had  better  see  Colonel 
Bulstrode.    As  joint  trustee  he  should  certainly  be  there." 

They  drove  at  once  to  the  Colonel's  and  found  him 
in.  He  had  not  heard  of  the  discovery  Hilda  had  made, 
and  was  greatly  excited  at  the  prospect  of  so  soon  re- 
covering Walter,  and  bringing,  as  he  said,  "  the  rascals 
to  book." 

The  next  morning  they  went  down  with  Roberts  to 
Gravesend,  to  engage  a  large  and  roomy  boat  with  two 
watermen  for  their  trip.  Just  as  they  were  entering 
Hyde  Park  Gardens,  on  their  return,  a  man  passed  them. 
Roberts  looked  hard  at  him,  and  then  said,  "  If  you  don't 
want  me  any  more  now,  miss,  I  should  like  to  speak  to 
that  man;  he  is  an  old  fellow-soldier." 

"  Certainly,  Roberts.  I  shall  not  want  you  again  for 
some  time." 

Roberts  hurried  after  the  man.  "  Sergeant  Nichol," 
he  said,  as  he  came  up  to  him,  "  it  is  years  since  I  saw 
you  last-" 


283  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"I  remember  your  face,  if  I  do  not  remember  your 
name/'  the  man  said. 

"  I  am  Tom  Eoberts.  I  was  in  your  company,  you 
know,  before  you  went  onto  the  staff." 

"  I  remember  you  now,  Eoberts,"  and  the  two  shook 
hands  heartily.  "  What  are  you  doing  now?  If  I  re- 
member right,  you  went  as  servant  to  General  Mathieson 
when  you  got  your  discharge." 

"  Yes;  you  see,  I  had  been  his  orderly  for  two  or  three 
years  before,  and  when  I  got  my  discharge  with  my 
pension,  I  told  him  that  I  should  like  to  stop  with  him 
if  he  would  take  me.  I  was  with  him  out  there  for  five 
years  after;  then  I  came  home,  and  was  with  him  until 
his  death,  and  am  still  in  the  service  of  his  niece,  Miss 
Covington,  one  of  the  young  ladies  I  was  with  just  now. 
And  what  are  you  doing?  " 

"  I  am  collector  for  a  firm  in  the  City.  It  is  an  easy 
berth,  and  with  my  pension  I  am  as  comfortable  as  a 
man  can  wish  to  be." 

So  they  chatted  for  half  an  hour,  and  when  they  parted 
Eoberts  received  a  hearty  invitation  to  look  in  at  the 
other's  place  at  Kilburn. 

"  Both  my  boys  are  in  the  army,"  he  said,  "  and  likely 
to  get  on  well.  My  eldest  girl  is  married,  my  youngest 
is  at  home  with  her  mother  and  myself;  they  will  be 
pleased  to  see  you  too.  The  missus  enjoys  a  gossip  about 
India,  and  is  always  glad  to  welcome  any  old  comrade 
Of  mine." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

WALTER. 

The  wind  was  westerly,  and  the  boat  ran  fast  down 
the  river  from  Gravesend;  Roberts  and  Andrew,  both 
in  civilian  clothes,  were  sitting  in  the  bows,  where  there 
were  stowed  a  large  hamper  and  a  small  traveling-bag 
with  some  clothes.  One  waterman  sat  by  the  mast,  in 
case  it  should  be  necessary  to  lower  sail;  the  other 
was  aft  at  the  tiller.  The  men  must  have  thought  that 
they  had  never  had  so  silent  and  grave  a  pleasure  party 
before:  two  elderly  gentlemen  and  two  girls,  none  of 
whom  seemed  inclined  to  make  merry  in  any  way.  Colo- 
nel Bulstrode,  indeed,  tried  hard  to  keep  up  a  conversa- 
tion about  the  ships,  barges,  and  other  craft  that  they 
met,  or  which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  stream,  and  recalling 
reminiscences  of  trips  on  Indian  rivers. 

Netta  was  the  only  one  of  his  hearers  who  apparently 
took  any  interest  in  the  talk.  To  her  the  scene  was  so 
new  that  she  regarded  everything  with  attention  and 
pleasure,  and  looked  with  wonder  at  the  great  ships 
which  were  dragged  along  by  tiny  tugs,  wondered  at  the 
rate  at  which  the  clumsy-looking  barges  made  their  way 
through  the  water,  and  enjoj'ed  the  rapid  and  easy  motion 
with  which  their  own  boat  glided  along.  Mr.  Pettigrew 
was  revolving  in  his  mind  the  problem  of  what  should 
next  be  done;  while  Hilda's  thoughts  were  centered  upon 
Walter,  and  the  joy  that  it  would  be  to  have  him  with 
her  again. 

"  This  is  Hole  Haven,"  the  boatman  in  the  stern  said, 
as  a  wide  sheet  of  water  opened  on  their  left. 

"Why  don't  you  turn  in,  then?"  Colonel  Bulstrode 
asked. 

"  There  is  scarce  water  enough  for  us,  sir;  they  are 


288  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

neap  tides  at  present,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  sands  will 
begin  to  show  all  over  there.  We  have  to  go  in  onto 
the  farther  side — that  is,  where  the  channel  is.  You 
see  those  craft  at  anchor;  there  is  the  landing,  just  in 
front  of  the  low  roof  you  see  over  the  bank.  That  is  the 
*  Lobster  Smack/  and  a  very  comfortable  house  it  is; 
and  you  can  get  as  good  a  glass  of  beer  there  as  any- 
where on  the  river." 

As  they  turned  into  the  creek  they  saw  two  constables 
on  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  at  the  head  of  the  steps  stood 
a  gentleman  talking  with  a  coastguard  officer. 

"  That  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Bostock,"  Mr.  Pettigrew 
said.  "  He  told  me  that,  if  he  could  manage  it,  he  would 
drive  over  himself  with  the  two  constables.  I  am  glad 
that  he  has  been  able  to  do  so;  his  presence  will 
strengthen  our  hands." 

A  coast  guard  boat,  with  four  sailors  in  it,  was  lying 
close  to  the  steps,  and  the  officer  came  down  with  Mr. 
Bostock,  followed  by  the  two  constables.  The  magistrate 
greeted  Mr.  Pettigrew  and  took  his  place  in  the  boat 
beside  him,  after  being  introduced  to  the  two  ladies  and 
the  Colonel.  The  officer  with  the  two  constables  stepped 
into  the  coastguard  boat,  which  rowed  on  ahead  of  the 
other. 

"  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  coming  over  to 
see  the  end  of  this  singular  affair,  of  which  I  heard  from 
Mr.  Pettigrew,"  Mr.  "Bostock  said  to  Hilda.  "The 
officer  of  the  coastguard  is  going  on,  partly  to  show  us 
the  way  to  the  house,  and  partly  because  it  will  be  a 
good  opportunity  for  him  to  search  the  place  thoroughly 
for  smuggled  goods.  He  tells  me  that  the  barge  is  up 
the  creek  now;  it  went  up  yesterday  evening.  So  we  may 
find  the  fellow  at  home." 

"Xow,  my  men,"  Colonel  Bulstrode  said  to  the  boat- 
men, "  we  have  got  to  follow  that  boat.  You  will  have 
plenty  of  time  for  beer  when  you  get  there,  and  a  good 
lunch  besides.  So  pull  your  hardest;  we  have  not  got 
very  far  to  go.     Can  either  of  you  men  row?" 

"I  can  pull  a  bit,"  Eoberts  said,  and,  aided  by  the 


STRATE   OF   THE   COUNTY   OF    ESSE 


2*te  Losi 


WALTER.  289 

sail  and  the  three  oars,  the  boat  went  along  at  a  fair 
rate  through  the  water,  the  coastguard  boat  keeping  a 
short  distance  ahead  of  them.  After  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  rowing  the  bargeman's  house  came  in  view.  The 
revenue  officer  pointed  to  it. 

"  Now,  row  your  hardest,  men,"  Colonel  Bulstrode 
said;  "  we  have  but  a  hundred  yards  further  to  go." 

The  two  boats  rowed  up  to  the  bank  together;  Mr. 
Bostock  sprang  out,  as  did  the  constables  and  sailors, 
and  ran  up  the  bank,  the  others  following  at  once.  As 
they  appeared  on  the  bank  a  boy  working  in  the  garden 
gave  a  shrill  whistle;  a  man  immediately  appeared  at  the 
door  and  looked  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  the  party. 
He  stepped  back  a  foot,  and  then,  as  if  changing  his 
mind,  came  out  and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

"I  am  a  magistrate  of  the  County  of  Essex,"  Mr. 
Bostock  said,  "  and  I  have  come  to  see  a  warrant  exe- 
cuted for  the  search  of  your  house  for  a -child  named 
Walter  Eivington,  who  is  believed  to  be  concealed  here, 
and  who  has  been  stolen  from  the  care  of  his  guardians." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  any  child  of  that  name,"  the 
man  replied,  "  but  I  have  a  child  here  that  I  am  taking 
care  of  for  a  gentleman  in  London;  I  have  had  him 
here  for  just  a  year,  and  no  one  has  made  any  inquiries 
about  him.  You  are  welcome  to  enter  and  see  if  he  is 
the  one  you  are  in  search  of.  If  he  is,  all  that  I  can  say 
is  that  I  know  nothing  about  his  being  stolen,  and  shall 
be  very  sorry  to  lose  him." 

He  stood  aside,  and  the  two  constables  entered,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  Hilda.  The  latter  gave  a  cry  of  joy, 
for  seated  on  the  ground,  playing  with  a  box  of  soldiers, 
was  Walter.  She  would  hardly  have  known  him  any- 
where else.  His  curls  had  been  cut  short,  his  face  was 
brown  and  tanned,  and  his  clothes,  although  scrupulously 
clean,  were  such  as  would  be  worn  by  any  bargeman's 
boy  at  that  age.  The  child  looked  up  as  they  entered. 
Hilda  ran  to  him,  and  caught  him  up  in  her  arms. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Walter?  Don't  you  iwnemW 
Cousin  Hilda?  » 


290  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

"  Yes>  I  remember  you,"  the  child  said,  now  return- 
ing her  embrace.  "  You  used  to  tell  me  stories  and  take 
me  out  in  a  carriage  for  drives.  Where  have  you  been 
so  long?  And  where  is  grandpapa?  Oh,  here  is  Netta! " 
and  as  Hilda  put  him  down  he  ran  to  her,  for  during  the 
four  months  spent  in  the  country  she  had  been  his  chief 
playmate. 

"  I  have  learned  to  swim,  Netta.  Uncle  Bill  has  taught 
me  himself;  and  he  is  going  to  take  me  out  in  his  barge 
some  day." 

The  woman,  who  had  come  in  with  her  arms  covered 
with  lather,  from  the  little  washhouse  adjoining  the 
house,  now  came  forward. 

"  I  hope,  miss,  that  there  is  nothing  wrong,"  she  said 
to  Hilda.  "  "We  have  done  our  best  for  the  little  boy, 
and  I  have  come  to  care  for  him  just  as  if  he  had  been  my 
own;  and  if  you  are  going  to  take  him  away  I  shall  miss 
him  dreadful,  for  he  is  a  dear  little  fellow,"  and  she  burst 
into  tears. 

Walter  struggled  from  Netta's  arms,  and  ran  to  the 
woman,  and,  pulling  her  by  the  apron,  said: 

"  Don't  cry,  Aunt  Betsy;  Jack  is  not  going  away  from 
you.  Jack  will  stay  here;  he  likes  going  in  a  barge  better 
than  riding  in  a  carriage." 

^  Well,  Miss  Covington,"  Mr.  Bostock  said,  "  the  recog- 
nition appears  to  be  complete  on  both  sides;  now  what 
is  the  next  step?  Do  you  give  this  man  into  custody 
for  unlawfully  concealing  this  child  and  aiding  and 
abetting  in  his  abduction?" 

"  Will  you  wait  a  minute  while  I  speak  to  Mr.  Petti- 
grew?"  she  said;  and  they  went  out  of  the  house 
together. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pettigrew?  " 

"I  have  been  thinking  it  over  all  the  way  as  we  cama 
down,"  the  lawyer  said.  "  Of  course,  we  have  no  shadow 
of  proof  that  this  man  was  aware  who  the  child  was, 
anc,  in  fact,  if  he  had  seen  the  placards  offering  alto- 
gether fifteen  hundred  pounds  for  his  recovery,  we  must 
certainly  assume  that  he  would  have  given  him  up;  for 


WALTER.  291 

ftowever  well  lie  may  have  been  paid  for  taking  charge 
of  him,  the  offer  would  have  been  too  tempting  for  a 
man  of  that  kind  to  have  resisted.  No  doubt  he  had 
strong  suspicions,  but  you  can  hardly  say  that  it 
amounted  to  guilty  knowledge  that  the  child  had  been 
abducted.  If  Walter  had  been  ill-treated  I  should  have 
said  at  once,  '  Give  him  into  custody ';  but  this  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  the  case." 

"  No;  they  have  evidently  been  very  kind  to  him.  I 
am  so  grateful  for  that  that  I  should  be  sorry  to  do  the 
man  any  harm." 

"  That  is  not  the  only  point,"  the  lawyer  went  on. 
"It  is  evident  that  the  other  people  very  seldom  come 
down  here,  and  from  what  you  heard,  in  future  Simcoe 
is  going  to  write.  If  we  arrest  this  man  the  others  will 
know  at  once  that  the  game  is  up.  Now,  if  you  will 
take  the  child  away  quietly,  we  can  tell  the  man  that 
he  shall  not  be  prosecuted,  providing  that  he  takes  no 
steps  whatever  to  inform  his  employers  that  the  child 
is  gone;  even  if  one  of  them  came  down  here  to  see  the 
child,  the  wife  must  say  that  he  is  away  on  the  barge. 
Anyhow,  we  shall  have  ample  time  to  decide  upon  what 
steps  to  take  against  Simcoe,  and  can  lay  hands  upon  him 
whenever  we  choose;  whereas,  if  he  got  an  inkling  that 
we  had  discovered  the  child,  he  and  his  associate  would 
probably  disappear  at  once,  and  we  might  have  lots  of 
trouble  to  find  them." 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  would  be  a  very  good  plan,  Mr. 
Pettigrew.    I  will  ask  him  and  his  wife  to  come  out." 

"  That  will  be  the  best  way,  my  dear.  We  could 
hardly  discuss  the  matter  before  Bostock." 

Hilda  went  in.  As  soon  as  she  spoke  to  the  man  and 
his  wife  Mr.  Bostock  said,  "  If  you  want  a  conference, 
Miss  Covington,  I  will  go  out  and  leave  you  to  talk 
matters  over." 

He  and  the  two  constables  withdrew,  and  Mr.  Petti- 
grew came  in. 

"Now,  my  man,"  he  began,  "you  must  see  that  you 
have  placed  yourself  in  a  very  awkward  position.     You 


29£  TEE  LOST  EEIB. 

are  found  taking  care  of  a  child  that  has  been  stolen, 
and  for  whose  recovery  large  rewards  have  been  offered 
all  over  the  country.  It  is  like  the  case  of  a  man  found 
hiding  stolen  goods.  He  would  be  called  upon  to  ac- 
count for  their  being  in  his  possession.  Now,  it  is  hardly- 
possible  that  you  can  have  been  ignorant  that  this 
child  was  stolen.  You  may  not  have  been  told  so  in 
words,  but  you  cannot  have  helped  having  suspicions. 
From  what  the  child  no  doubt  said  when  he  first  came 
here,  you  must  have  been  sure  that  he  had  been  brought 
up  in  luxury.  No  doubt  he  spoke  of  rides  in  a  carriage, 
of  servants,  his  nurse,  and  so  on.  However,  Miss  Cov- 
ington is  one  of  the  child's  guardians,  and  I  am  the 
other,  and  we  are  most  reluctant  to  give  you  in  charge. 
It  is  evident,  from  the  behavior  of  the  child,  and  from 
the  affection  that  he  shows  to  yourself  and  your  wife, 
that  you  have  treated'  him  very  kindly  since  he  has  been 
here,  and  these  toys  I  see  about  show  that  you  have  done 
your  best  to  make  him  happy." 

"That  we  have,  sir,"  the  man  said.  "Betsy  and  I 
took  to  him  from  the  first.  We  have  no  children  of  our 
own,  none  living  at  least,  and  we  have  made  as  much 
of  him  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  our  own — perhaps  more. 
We  have  often  talked  it  over,  and  both  thought  that 
we  were  not  doing  the  fair  thing  by  him,  and  were,  per- 
haps, keeping  him  out  of  his  own.  I  did  not  like  having 
anything  to  do  with  it  at  first,  but  I  had  had  some 
business  with  the  man  who  gave  him  to  me,  and  when 
he  asked  me  to  undertake  the  job  it  did  not  seem  to 
me  so  serious  an  affair  as  it  has  done  since,  I  am  heartily 
sorry  that  we  have  had  any  hand  in  it;  not  only  because 
we  have  done  the  child  harm,  but  because  it  seems  that 
we  are  going  to  lose  him  now  that  we  have  come  to  care 
for  him  as  if  he  was  our  own." 

"  Of  course  you  played  only  a  minor  part  in  the  busi- 
ness, Nibson.  We  quite  understand  that,  and  it  is  the 
men  who  have  carried  out  this  abduction  that  we  want 
to  catch.  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  man  who 
brought  the  child  to  you?" 


WALTER  293 

■  I  don't,  sir.  He  knows  where  to  find  me,  but  I  have 
no  more  idea  than  a  child  unborn  who  he  is  or  where  he 
lives.  When  he  writes  to  me,  which  he  generally  does 
before  he  comes  down,  which  may  be  two  or  three  times 
a  month,  or  may  be  once  in  six  months,  he  signs  himself 
Smith.  I  don't  suppose  that  is  his  right  name,  but  I 
say  fairly  that  if  I  knew  it,  and  where  he  lived,  I  would 
not  peach  upon  him.  He  has  always  been  straight  with 
me  in  the  business  I  have  done  with  him,  and  I  would 
rather  take  six  months  for  this  affair  than  say  anything 
against  him." 

"  We  are  not  asking  you  at  present  to  say  anything 
against  him,  and  he  is  not  the  principal  man  in  this 
business.  I  believe  he  is  only  acting  as  agent  for 
another  more  dangerous  rascal  than  himself.  We  are 
not  prepared  at  the  present  moment  to  arrest  the  chief 
scoundrel.  Before  we  do  that  we  must  obtain  evidence 
that  will  render  his  conviction  a  certainty.  We  have 
reason  to  believe  that  this  man  that  you  know  will  not 
come  down  for  some  time,  and  that  you  will  receive  the 
money  for  the  child's  keep  by  post;  but  if  we  abstain 
altogether  from  prosecuting  you  in  this  matter,  you  must 
give  us  your  word  that  you  will  not  take  any  steps  what- 
ever to  let  them  know  that  the  child  is  no  longer  with 
you.  He  says  that  you  promised  to  take  him  out  in 
your  barge.  Well,  if  by  any  chance  this  man — not  your 
man,  but  the  other — comes  down  here,  and  wants  to  see 
the  child,  you  or  your  wife  will  lead  him  to  btiieve  that 
he  is  on  board  your  barge.  It  will  also  be  necessary  that, 
if  we  do  arrest  them,  you  should  enter  as  a  v.  itness  to 
prove  that  the  man  handed  the  child  over  to  you.  You 
could  let  it  be  seen  that  you  are  an  unwilling  witness, 
but  the  evidence  of  the  handing  over  of  the  child  will  be 
an  absolute  necessity." 

"All  right,  sir,  I  will  undertake  that.  There  is  no 
fear  of  my  letting  him  know  that  the  child  has  gone, 
lor  I  don't  know  where  to  write  him;  and  if  he  or 
the  other  should  come  down,  if  I  am  here  I  shall  have 
*»o  diffk>.«Hv  i«  keeping  it  from  him  that  the  child  has 


294  THE  LOSr  HEIR 

gone,  for  my  man  has  never  set  foot  in  this  house.  He 
just  meets  me  on  the  road  near  Pitsea,  says  what  he  has 
to  say,  and  gives  me  what  he  has  to  give  me,  and  then 
drives  off  again.  .Of  course,  if  I  am  summoned  as  a  wit- 
ness, I  know  that  the  law  can  make  me  go.  I  remember 
now  that  when  he  gave  me  the  child  he  said  he  was  doing 
it  to  oblige  a  friend  of  his,  and  he  may  be  able  to  prove 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  carrying  it  off." 

"  That  is  as  it  may  be,"  the  lawyer  said  dryly.  "  How- 
ever, we  are  quite  content  with  your  promise." 

"  And  I  thank  you  most  heartily,  you  and  your  wife," 
Hilda  Covington  said  warmly,  "  for  your  kindness  to  the 
child.  It  would  have  made  me  very  happy  all  this  time 
if  I  could  have  known  that  he  was  in  such  good  hands, 
but  I  pictured  him  shut  up  in  some  vile  den  in  London, 
ill  treated,  and  half  starved.  He  has  grown  very  much 
since  he  has  been  with  you,  and  looks  a  great  deal  more 
boyish  than  he  did." 

"  Yes,  he  plays  a  good  deal  with  my  barge  boy,  who 
has  taken  to  him  just  as  we  have." 

"  Well,  your  kindness  will  not  be  forgotten  nor  unre- 
warded, Mr.  Nibson." 

"  I'm  sure  we  don't  want  any  reward,  miss;  we  have 
been  well  paid.  But  even  if  we  hadn't  been  paid  at  all 
after  the  first  month,  we  should  have  gone  on  keeping 
him  just  the  same." 

"  Now,  Walter,"  Hilda  said,  "  we  want  you  to  come 
home  with  us;  we  have  all  been  wanting  you  very  badly. 
Nurse  and  Tom  Roberts  have  been  in  a  terrible  way, 
and  so  has  Dr.  Leeds.  You  remember  him,  don't  you? 
He  was  very  kind  to  you  all  the  time  that  you  were  down 
in  the  country." 

The  child  nodded.  "  I  should  like  to  see  Tom  Eoberts 
and  nurse,  but  I  don't  want  to  go  away.  I  am  going  out 
in  the  barge  soon." 

"Well,  dear,  I  dare  say  that  we  shall  be  able  to  ar- 
range for  you  to  come  down  sometimes,  and  to  go  out  in 
it,  especially  as  you  have  learned  to  swim.  We  are  going 
away  now  in  a  bolt/' 


WALTER.  295 

"I  often  go  out  in  the  boat,"  Walter  pouted.  "I  go 
with  Joshua;  he  is  a  nice  boy,  Joshua  is,  and  I  like 
him." 

"  Well,  dear,  we  will  see  what  wc  can  do  for  Joshua," 

''You  are  sure  that  I  shall  come  back  and  go  out  i:i 
the  barge?" 

"  Quite  sure,  dear;  and  perhaps  I  will  go  out  with 
you,  too." 

"Yes.  you  must  go,  like  a  good  boy,"  Mrs.  Nibson 
said.  "You  know,  dear,  that  I  shall  always  love  yon, 
and  shall  be  very,  very  glad  if  the  ladies  can  spare  you 
to  come  down  to  see  me  sometimes.  You  won't  forget 
me,  will  you?  " 

"  Xo,  Aunt  Betsy,  I  shall  never  forget  you;  I  promise 
you  that,"  the  child  said.  "And  I  don't  want  to  > 
away  from  you  at  all,  only  Cousin  Hilda  says  I  must." 

Mr.  Pettigrew  went  out  to  tell  Mr.  Bostock  that  they 
should  not  give  Nibson  into  custody. 

"  The  principal  scoundrels  would  take  the  alarm  in- 
stantly," he  said,  "  and,  above  all  things,  we  want  to 
keep  them  in  the  dark  until  we  are  ready  to  arrest  them. 
It  will  be  much  better  that  we  should  have  this  man  lo 
call  as  a  witness  than  that  he  should  appear  in  the  dock 
as  an  accomplice." 

"I  think  that  you  are  right  there,"  the  magistrate 
agreed;  "  and  really,  he  and  his  wife  seem  to  have  ' 
very  kind  to  the  child.    I  have  been  talking  to  this  young 
barge  boy.     It  seems  he  is  no  relation  of  these  pe< 
His  mother  was  a  tramp,  who  died  one  winter's  night  on 
the  road  to  Pitsea.     He  was  about  ten  or  eleven  years 
old  then,  and  they  would  have  sent  him  to  the  work1;: 
but  Nibson,  who  was  on  the  coroner's  jury,  volunt 
to  take  him,  and  I  dare  say  he  finds  him  very  useful  on 
board  the  barge.     At  any  rate,  he  has  been  yell  tre 
and  says  that  Nibson  is  the  best  master  on  the  i 
So  the  fellow  must  have  some  good  in  him,  though,  from 
what  the  coastguard  officer  said,  there  are  very  strong 
suspicions  that  he  is  mixed  up  in  the  smuggling  busi 
which,  it  seems,  is  still  carried  on  in  these  marges'.  Well, 


296  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

no  doubt  you  have  decided  wisely;  and  now,  I  suppose, 
we  shall  be  off." 

At  this  moment  they  were  joined  by  the  coastguard 
officer. 

"  He  has  done  us  again,"  he  said.  "  We  have  been 
investigating  these  outhouses  thoroughly,  and  there  is 
no  question  that  he  has  had  smuggled  goods  here.  We 
found  a  clever  hiding-place  in  that  cattle-shed.  It 
struck  me  that  it  was  a  curious  thing  that  there  should 
be  a  stack  of  hay  built  up  right  against  the  side  of  it. 
So  we  took  down  a  plank  or  two,  and  I  was  not  surprised 
to  find  that  there  was  a  hollow  in  the  stack.  One  of 
the  men  stamped  his  foot,  and  the  sound  showed  that 
there  was  another  hollow  underneath.  We  dug  up  the 
ground,  and  found,  six  inches  below  it,  a  trap-door,  and 
on  lifting  it  discovered  a  hole  five  or  six  feet  deep  and  six 
feet  square.  It  was  lined  with  bricks,  roughly  cemented 
together.  It  is  lucky  for  him  that  the  place  is  empty, 
and  I  should  think  that  after  this  he  will  go  out  of  the 
business  for  a  time.  Of  course  we  cannot  arrest  a  man 
merely  for  having  a  hidden  cellar;  I  fancy  that  there 
are  not  many  houses  on  the  marshes  that  have  not  some 
places  of  the  sort.  Indeed,  I  am  rather  glad  that  we  did 
not  catch  him,  for  in  other  respects  Nibson  is  a  decent, 
hard-working  fellow.  Sometimes  he  has  a  glass  or  two 
at  the  '  Lobster  Smack,'  but  never  takes  too  much,  and 
is  always  very  quiet  and  decent  in  his  talk.  I  doubt 
whether  the  men  would  have  found  that  hiding-place 
if  I  had  not  been  there;  they  all  know  him  well,  and 
would  not  get  him  into  a  scrape  if  they  could  help  it, 
though  there  are  some  fellows  on  the  marshes  they  would 
give  a  month's  pay  to  catch  with  kegs  or  tobacco." 

The  door  of  the  house  opened,  and  the  three  women 
and  Nibson  came  out  with  Walter,  who  was  now 
dressed  in  the  clothes  that  they  had  brought  down  for 
iiim. 

While  the  others  were  getting  ready  to  enter  the  boat 
the  officer  took  Nibson  aside. 

"'You  have  had  a  close  squeak  of  it,  Nibson;  we  found 


WALTER.  397 

your  hiding-place  under  the  stack,  and  it  is  lucky  for 
you  that  it  was  empty.  So  we  have  nothing  to  say  to 
you.  I  should  advise  you  to  give  it  up,  my  man;  sooner 
or  later  you  are  bound  to  be  caught." 

The  man's  brow  had  darkened  as  the  officer  began, 
but  it  cleared  up  again. 

"  All  right,  he  said;  "  I  have  been  thinking  for  the 
last  half  hour  that  I  shall  drop  the  business  altogether, 
but  when  a  man  once  gets  into  it,  it  is  not  so  easy  to 
get  out.  Now  that  you  have  found  that  cellar,  it  is  a 
good  excuse  to  cut  it.  I  can  well  say  that.  I  dare  not 
risk  it  again,  for  that,  after  so  nearly  catching  me,  you 
would  be  sure  to  keep  an  extra  sharp  eye  on  me  in  the 
future." 

"  You  give  me  your  word  for  that,  Mbson?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  -wear  off  it  altogether  from  the  present 
day." 

"  Good.  I  will  take  your  word  for  it,  and  you  can 
go  in  and  come  out  as  you  like  without  being  watched, 
and  you  need  not  fear  that  we  shall  pay  you  another 
visit." 

Walter  went  off  in  fair  spirits.  The  promise  that  he 
should  come  down  again  and  see  his  friends  and  have  a 
sail  in  the  barge  lessened  the  pang  of  leaving,  and  as 
Hilda's  and  Netta's  faces  came  more  strongly  back  to 
him,  as  they  talked  to  him  and  recalled  pleasant  things 
that  had  almost  faded  from  his  memory,  he  went  away 
contentedly,  while  Betsy  Nibson  went  back  to  the  house 
and  had  what  she  called  "  a  good  cry."  She  too,  how- 
ever, cheered  up  when  her  husband  told  her  how  narrow 
an  escape  he  had  had,  and  how  he  had  given  his  word 
that  he  would  drop  smuggling  altogether. 

"  That  makes  my  mind  easier  than  it  has  been  for 
years,  Bill.  And  will  you  give  up  the  other  thing,  too? 
There  may  not  be  much  harm  in  running  kegs  and 
bacca,  but  there  is  no  doubt  about  its  being  wrong  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  stolen  goods  and  to  mix  your- 
self up  with  men  who  steal  them." 

"  Yes,  I  will  five  that  up,  too,  Betsy;  and,  as  soon  as  I 


298  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

have  time  to  look  round,  I  will  give  an  order  for  a  new 
barge  to  be  buiit  for  me.     I  have  been  ashamed  of  the 
old  thing  for  a  long  time  past  with  her  patched  sails. 
Of  course,  she  suited  my  purpose,  for  when  the  other 
barges  kept  on  tlr   'r  course  it  gave  me  a  good  excuse 
for  anchoring;  bu    it  aint  pleasant  to  have  every  barge 
ing  you.    There  is  old  Joe  Hargett;  he  said  the  other 
day  that,  if  I  ever  thought  of  getting  a  new  barge,  he 
would  give   a  hundred  for  her.     He   has  got  a  set  of 
decent  sails,  and  he  is  a  pretty  handy  carpenter,  and  no 
t  he  will  make  her  look  'decent  again.     A  hundred 
ds  amt  much,  but  it  will  help.     I  can  get  a  new 
one  complete,  sails  and  all,  for  fourteen  or  fifteen  hun- 
dred, and  have  a  hundred  or  two  left  in  the  bag  after- 
wards.    I  tell  you  what,  Betsy,  I  will  get  an  extra  com- 
fortable cabin  made,  and  a  place  forward  for  Joshua.    It 
will  be  dull  for  you  here  now  the  child  is  gone,  and  it 
would  be  a   sight  more  comfortable  for  us  both  to  be 
together." 

•■  That  it  will,  Bill,"  she  said  joyfully.     "I  was  always 
very  happy  on  board  till  we  lost  our  Billy.     I  took  a 
e  to  it  then,  and  was  glad  enough  to  come  here; 
but  I  have  got  over  it  now,  and  this  place  is  very  lonel; 
during  the  long  winter  nights  when  you  are  away." 

Then  they  talked  over  the  barge,  and  how  the  cabin 
should  be  fitted  up,  and,  in  spite  of  having  lost  Walter, 
the  evening  was  a  pleasant  one  to  them. 

That  was  not  the  only  conversation  that  took  place 
that  day  with  reference  to  a  new  barge  for  Bill  Kibson. 
As  they  rowed  up  against  the  tide,  Hilda  said: 

"  We  must  do  something  for  that  bargeman,  Colonel 
Bulstrode.  I  am  sure  we  cannot  be  too  grateful  to  him 
and  his  wife  for  their  treatment  of  Walter.  Think  how 
different  it  might  have  been  had  he  fallen  into  bad 
hands.  Now  he  looks  the  picture  of  health;  the  change 
in  the  life  and  the  open  air  has  done  wonders.  You 
know,  Dr.  Leeds  said  that  the  officer  of  the  coastguard 
had  told  him  that  Xib?on's  barge  was  one  of  the  oldest 
and  rottenest  crafts  on  the  river.     Now,  I  propose  that 


WALTER.  299 

we  buy  him  a  new  one.  What  would  it  cost,  Colonel 
Bulstrode?" 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea,"  the  Colonel  replied; 
"  it  might  cost  five  hundred  pounds,  or  it  might  cost  five 
thousand,  for  all  I  know." 

"  I  will  ask  the  waterman/'  Hilda  said,  and  raising 
her  voice  she  said,  "How  much  do  barges  cost  when 
they  are  new?  " 

"From  ten  or  eleven  hundred  up  to  fifteen,"  the  man 
said. 

"Does  that  include  sails  and  all?" 

"  Yes,  miss;  down  to  the  boat." 

"  Who  is  considered  the  best  barge-builder?  " 

"Well,  there  are  a  good  many  of  them,  miss;  but  I 
should  say  that  Gill,  of  Rochester,  is  considered  as  good 
as  any." 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pettigrew?"  Hilda  said. 
"  Should  we,  as  Walter's  guardians,  be  justified  in  spend- 
ing this  money?  Mind,  I  don't  care  a  bit  whether  we 
are  or  not,  because  I  would  buy  it  myself  if  it  would  not 
be  right  for  us  to  use  his  money." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  it  would  not  be  right,"  Mr.  Pettigrew 
Eaid.  "  As  a  trustee  of  the  property,  I  should  certainly 
not  feel  myself  justified  in  sanctioning  such  a  sum  being 
drawn,  though  I  quite  admit  that  this  good  couple  should 
be  rewarded.  I  cannot  regard  a  barge  as  a  necessary; 
anything  in  reason  that  the  child  could  require  we 
should  be  justified  in  agreeing  to.  Of  course,  whatever 
may  be  his  expenses  at  a  public  school,  we  should  pay 
them  without  hesitation;  but  for  a  child  of  that  age  to 
give  a  present  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  would  be  alto- 
gether beyond  our  power  to  sanction." 

"  Very  well,"  Hilda  said  decidedly,  "  then  I  shall  take 
the  matter  into  my  own  hands,  and  I  shall  go  down  to 
Rochester  to-morrow  and  see  if  these  people  have  a  barge 
ready  built.  I  don't  know  whether  they  are  the  sort  of 
things  people  keep  in  stock." 

"  That  I  can't  say,  my  dear.  I  should  think  it  proba- 
ble that  in  slack  times  they  may  build  a  barge  or  two  on 


800  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

speculation,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  their  hands  em- 
ployed, but  whether  that  is  the  case  now  or  not  I  don't 
know.  If  these  people  at  Rochester  have  not  got  one 
you  may  hear  of  one  somewhere  else.  I  want  you  all  to 
come  up  to  the  office  one  day  next  week  to  talk  over 
this  matter  of  the  order  Simcoe  is-  applying  for — for  us 
to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  will — at  any  rate,  as 
far  as  his  legacy  is  concerned." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  I  will  come  up  any  time 
that  you  write  to  me,  but  you  know  that  I  have  very 
strong  opinions  about  it." 

"  I  know  your  opinions  are  strong,  as  ladies'  opinions 
generally  are,"  Mr.  Pettigrew  said  with  a  smile;  "but, 
unfortunately,  they  are  much  more  influenced  by  their 
own  view  of  matters  than  by  the  legal  bearing  of  them. 
However,  we  will  talk  that  over  when  we  meet  again." 

The  arrival  of  Walter  occasioned  the  most  lively  joy 
in  Hyde  Park  Gardens.  Hilda  had  written  to  his  nurse, 
who  had  gone  home  to  live  with  her  mother  when  all 
hope  of  finding  Walter  had  seemed  to  be  at  an  end,  to 
tell  her  that  he  would  probably  be  at  home  on  Wednes- 
day evening,  and  that  she  was  to  be  there  to  meet  him. 
Her  greeting  of  him  was  rapturous.  It  had  been  a 
source  of  bitter  grief  to  her  that  he  had  been  lost  through 
a  momentary  act  of  carelessness  on  her  part,  and  the  re- 
lief that  Hilda's  letter  had  caused  was  great  indeed.  The 
child  was  scarcely  less  pleased  to  see  her,  for  he  retained 
a  much  more  vivid  recollection  of  her  than  he  did  of 
the  others.  He  had  already  been  told  of  his  grand- 
father's death,  but  a  year  had  so  effaced  his  memory  of 
him  that  he  was  not  greatly  affected  at  the  news.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  hours  he  was  almost  as  much  at  home  in 
the  house  as  if  he  had  never  left  it. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

A    NEW    BARGE. 

The  next  morning  Hilda  went  down  to  Rochester  with 
Netta,  Tom  Roberts  accompanying  them.  They  had  no 
difficulty  in  discovering  the  barge-builder's.  It  seemed 
to  the  girls  a  dirty-looking  place,  thickly  littered  as  it 
was  with  shavings;  men  were  at  work  on  two  or  three 
targes  which  seemed,  thus  seen  out  of  the  water,  an 
enormous  size. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Gill  ?  "  Hilda  asked  a  man  passing. 

"  That  is  him,  miss,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  man  who 
was  in  the  act  of  giving  directions  to  some  workmen. 
They  waited  until  he  had  finished,  and  then  went  up  to 
him. 

"  I  want  to  buy  a  barge,  Mr.  Gill,"  Hilda  said. 

"  To  buy  a  barge!  "he  repeated  in  surprise,  for  never 
before  had  he  had  a  young  lady  as  a  customer. 

Hilda* nodded.  "  I  want  to  give  it  to  a  bargeman  who 
has  rendered  me  a  great  service,"  as  if  it  were  an  every- 
day occurrence  for  a  young  lady  to  buy  a  barge  as  a 
present.  "  I  want  it  at  once,  please;  and  it  is  to  be  a 
first-class  barge.     How  much  would  it  cost?  " 

The  builder  rubbed  his  chin.  "  Well,  miss,  it  is  a 
little  unusual  to  sell  a  barge  right  off  in  this  way;  as 
a  rule  people  want  barges  built  for  them.  Some  want 
them  for  speed,  some  want  them  for  thei*  carrying 
capacity." 

"  I  want  a  first-class  barge,"  Hilda  replied.  "  I  sup- 
pose it  will  be  for  traffic  on  the  Thames,  and  that  he 
will  like  it  to  be  fast." 

''  Well,  miss,"  the  builder  said  slowly,  for  he  could 
not  vet  quite  persuade  himself  that,  this  young  lady  was 

301 


302  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

really  prepared  to  pay  such  a  sum  as  a  new  barge  would 
cost,  "  I  have  got  such  a  barge.  She  was  launched  last 
week,  but  I  had  a  dispute  with  the  man  for  whom  I 
built  her,  and  I  said  that  I  would  not  hold  him  to  his 
bargain,  and  that  he  could  get  a  barge  elsewhere.  He 
went  off  in  a  huff,  but  I  expect  he  will  come  back  before 
long  and  ask  me  to  let  him  have  her,  and  I  should  not  be 
altogether  sorry  to  say  that  she  is  gone.  She  is  a  first- 
class  barge,  and  I  expect  that  she  will  be  as  fast  as 
anything  on  the  river.  Of  course,  I  have  got  everything 
ready  for  her — masts,  sails,  and  gear,  even  down  to  her 
dingey — and  in  twenty-four  hours  she  would  be  ready 
to  sail.  The  price  is  fifteen  hundred  pounds,"  and  he 
looked  sharply  at  Hilda  to  see  what  effect  that  com- 
munication would  have.  To  his  great  surprise  she  replied 
quietly: 

"  That  is  about  the  sum  I  expected,  Mr.  Gill.  Can 
we  look  at  her?  " 

"  Certainly,  miss;  she  is  lying  alongside,  and  it  is 
nearly  high  tide." 

He  led  the  way  over  piles  of  balks  of  timber,  across 
sloppy  pieces  of  ground,  over  which  at  high  tide  water 
extended,  to  the  edge  of  the  wharf,  where  the  barge 
-floated.  She  was  indeed  all  ready  for  her  mast;  her 
sides  shone  with  fresh  paint,  her  upper  works  were 
painted  an  emerald  green,  a  color  greatly  in  favor 
among  bargemen,  and  there  was  a  patch  of  the  same  on 
her  bow,  ready  for  the  name,  surrounded  by  gilt  scroll- 
work. 

"  There  she  is,  miss;  as  handsome  a  barge  as  there  is 
afloat." 

"  I  want  to  see  the  cabin.  What  a  little  place! "  she 
went  on,  as  she  and  Netta  went  down  through  a  narrow 
hatchway,  "  and  how  low!  " 

"  It  is  the  usual  height  in  barges,  miss,  and  the  same 
size,  unless  especially  ordered  otherwise." 

"  I  should  like  the  cabin  to  be  made  very  comfortable, 
for  I  think  the  boatman  will  have  his  wife  on  board. 
Could  it  not  be  made  a  little  larger?  " 


A  NEW  BARGE.  303 

"There  would  be  no  great  difficulty  about  that.  You 
See,  this  is  a  water-tight  compartment,  but  of  course  it 
could  be  carried  six  feet  farther  forward  and  a  perma- 
nent hatchway  be  fixed  over  it,  and  the  lining  made 
good  in  the  new  part.  As  to  height,  one  might  put  in 
a  good-sized  skylight;  it  would  not  be  usual,  but  of  course 
it  could  be  done." 

'•  And  you  could  put  the  bed-place  across  there,  could 
you  not,  and  put  a  curtain  to  draw  across  it?" 

"  Yes,  that  could  be  managed  easy  enough,  miss;  and 
it  would  make  a  very  tidy  cabin." 

"  Then  how  much  would  that  cost  extra  ?  " 

"  Forty  or  fifty  pounds,  at  the  outside." 

"  And  when  could  you  get  it  all  finished,  and  every- 
thing painted  a  nice  color?  "• 

"  I  could  get  it  done  in  a  week  or  ten  days,  if  you 
made  a  point  of  it." 

"  I  do  make  a  point  of  it,"  Hilda  said. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  our  leaving  this  bulkhead  up* 
as  it  is,  miss,  and  making  a  door  through  it,  and  putting 
a  small  skylight,  say  three  feet  square,  over  the  new 
part?  You  see,  it  will  be  fifteen  feet  wide  by  six  feet, 
so  that  it  will  make  a  tidy  little  place.  It  would  not 
cost  more  than  the  other  way,  not  so  much  perhaps; 
for  it  would  be  a  lot  of  trouble  to  get  this  bulkhead  down, 
and  then,  you  see,  the  second  hand  could  have  his  bunk 
in  here,  on  the  lockers,  and  be  quite  separate." 

"Isn't  there  a  cabin  at  the  other  end?" 

"  "Well,  there  is  one,  miss;  you  can  come  and  look  at  it. 
That  is  where  the  second  hand  always  sleeps  when  the 
bargeman  has  got  his  wife  on  board." 

"I  think  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  the  second 
hand  sleep  there,"  Hilda  said.  "  This  is  very  rough," 
she  went  on,  when  she  inspected  the  little  cabin  forward; 
"there  are  ail  the  beams  sticking  out.  Surely  it  can  be 
made  more  comfortable  than  this." 

"  We  could  matchboard  the  timbers  over  if  you  like, 
but  it  is  not  usual." 

"  Never  mind,  please  do  it;  and  put  some  lockers  up 


304  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

for  his  clothes,  and  make  it  very  comfortable.  Has  the 
barge  got  a  name  yet?" 

"Well,  miss,  we  have  always  called  her  the  Medway; 
but  there  is  no  reason  that  you  should  stick  to  that  name. 
She  has  not  been  registered  yet,  so  we  can  call  her  any 
name  you  like." 

"  Then  we  will  call  her  the  Walter"  Hilda  said,  for  the 
girls  had  already  settled  this  point  between  them. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Gill,  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  to  do 
but  to  give  you  a  check  for  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  and 
I  can  pay  for  the  alterations  when  I  come  down  next 
Monday  week.  Can  you  get  me  a  couple  of  men  who 
understand  the  work — bargees,  don't  you  call  them?  I 
want  them  to  take  her  as  far  as  Hole  Haven  and  a  short 
way  up  the  creek." 

"  I  can  do  that  easily  enough,"  the  builder  said;  "  and 
I  promise  you  that  everything  shall  be  ready  for  sailing, 
though  I  don't  guarantee  that  the  paint  in  the  new  part 
of  the  cabin  will  be  dry.  All  the  rest  I  can  promise.  I 
will  set  a  strong  gang  of  men  on  at  once." 

A  few  days  later  Hilda  wrote  a  line  to  William  Nibson, 
saying  that  she  intended  to  come  down  with  the  child 
on  the  following  Monday,  and  hoped  that  he  would  be 
able  to  make  it  convenient  to  be  at  home  on  that  day. 

"  She  is  riot  long  in  coming  down  again,  Betsy,"  he 
said,  when  on  the  Friday  the  barge  went  up  to  Pitsea 
again,  and  he  received  the  letter,  which  was  carried 
home  and  read  by  his  wife,  he  himself  being,  like  most 
of  his  class  at  the  time,  unable  to  read  or  write.  "I 
suppose  the  child  pined  in  his  new  home,  and  she 
had  to  pacify  him  by  saying  that  he  should  come  down 
and  see  us  next  week.  That  will  suit  me  very  well.  I 
have  a  load  of  manure  waiting  for  me  at  Rotherhithe; 
it  is  for  Farmer  Gilston,  near  Pitsea,  so  that  I  shall  just 
manage  it  comfortably.  Next  week  I  will  go  over  to 
Rochester  and  see  if  I  can  hear  of  a  good  barge  for 
sale." 

On  the  following  Monday  morning  the  girls  again 
went  clown  to  Rochester,  this  time  taking  Walter  with 


A  NEW  BARGE.  305 

them;  having  the  previous  week  sent  off  three  or  four 
great  parcels  by  luggage  train.  Roberts  went  to  look 
for  a  cart  to  bring  them  to  the  barge-builder's,  and  the 
girls  went  on  alone. 

"  There  she  lies,  miss,"  Mr.  Gill  said,  pointing  to  a 
barge  with  new  tanned  sails  tying  out  in  the  stream; 
"  she  is  a  boat  any  man  might  be  proud  of." 

"  She  looks  very  nice  indeed,"  Hilda  said,  "  though, 
of  course,  I  am  no  judge  of  such  things." 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  she  is  all  right,  Miss  Cov- 
ington." 

"Is  the  paint  dry,  down  below?" 

"  Yes.  I  saw  that  you  were  anxious  about  it,  so  put 
plenty  of  drier  in.  So  that,  though  she  was  only  painted 
on  Saturday  morning,  she  is  perfectly  dry  now.  But  you 
are  rather  earlier  than  I  had  expected." 

"  Yes;  we  have  sent  a  lot* of  things  down  by  rail.  Our 
man  is  getting  a  cart,  and  I  dare  say  they  will  be  here 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

The  things  were  brought  on  a  large  hand-car^,  and  as 
soon  as  these  were  carried  down  to  the  boat  they  went  off 
with  Mr.  Gill  to  the  barge. 

"  There,  miss,"  he  said,  as  he  led  the  way  down  into 
the  cabin;  "  there  is  not  a  barge  afloat  with  such  a  com- 
fortable cabin  as  this.  I  put  up  two  or  three  more  cup- 
boards, for  as  they  will  sleep  in  the  next  room  there  is 
plenty  of  space  for  them." 

Except  in  point  of  height,  the  cabin  was  as  comforta- 
ble a  little  room  as  could  be  desired.  It  was  painted  a 
light  slate  color,  with  the  panels  of  the  closets  of  a 
lighter  shade  of  the  same.  The  inner  cabin  was  of  the 
same  color.  A  broad  wooden  bedstead  extended  across 
one  end,  and  at  the  other  were  two  long  cupboards  ex- 
tending from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor.  The  skylight 
afforded  plenty  of  light  to  this  room,  while  the  large  one 
in  the  main  cabin  gave  standing  height  six  feet  square 
in  the  middle. 

"  It  could  not  have  been  better,"  Hilda  said,  greatly 
pleased 


306  TEE  LOST  EEIR. 

"  Well,  miss,  I  took  upon  myself  to  do  several  things 
in  the  way  of  cupboards,  and  so  on,  that  you  had  not 
ordered,  but  seeing  that  you  wanted  to  have  things  com- 
fortable I  took  upon  myself  to  do  them/' 

"You  did  quite  right,  Mr.  Gill.  This  big  skylight 
makes  all  the  difference  in  height.  I  see  that  you  have 
painted  the  name,  and  that  you  have  got  a  flag  flying 
from  the  masthead/' 

"  Yes;  bargemen  generally  like  a  bit  of  a  flag,  that  is 
to  say  if  they  take  any  pride  in  their  boat.  You  cannot 
trade  in  the  barge  until  you  have  had  it  registered;  shall 
I  get  that  done  for  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  if  you  would." 
"And    in     whose    name    shall    I    register    it?      In 
yours  ?  " 

"No;  in  the  name  of  William  Nibson.  If  you  want 
his  address  it  is  Creek  Farm,  Pitsea." 

"  Well,  miss,  he  is  a  lucky  fellow.  I  will  get  it  done, 
and  he  can  call  here  for  the  register  the  first  time  he 
comes  up  the  Medway." 

Eoberts  was  sent  ashore  again  for  a  number  of  hooks, 
ecrews,  and  a  few  tools. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gill,  we  are  quite  ready  to  start.  We  shall 
get  things  straight  on  the  voyage/' 

"  You  will  have  plenty  of  time,  miss;  she  will  anchor 
off  Grain  Spit  till  the  tide  begins  to  run  up  hard.  You 
won't  be  able  to  get  up  the  creek  till  an  hour  before 
high  tide." 

.  "  That  won't  matter,"  Hilda  said;  "  it  will  not  be  dark 
till  nine." 

"You  can  get  up  the  anchor  now,"  the  builder  said  to 
two  men  who  had  been  sitting  smoking  in  the  bow. 

The  barge's  boat  was  lying  bottom  upwards  on  the 
hatches  and  another  boat  lay  behind  her. 

"This  boat  does  not  belong  to  her,  Mr.  Gill;  does 
she?"  Hilda  asked. 

"  No,  miss;  that  is  the  men's  boat.  When  they  have 
got  the  barge  to  where  she  is  to  be  moored,  they  will 
row  down  to  Hole  Haven,  and  get  a  tow  up  with  the 


A  NEW  BARGE.  307 

first  barge  that  comes  down  after  the  tide  has  turned. 
How  will  you  be  coming  back,  Miss  Covington?" 

"  We  have  arranged  for  a  gig  to  be  at  Hole  Haven  at 
eight  o'clock  to  drive  us  to  Brentwood,  where  we  shall 
take  train  to  town.  We  shall  not  be  up  before  half-past 
eleven,  but  as  we  have  our  man  with  us  that  does  not 
matter;  besides,  the  carriage  is  to  be  at  the  station  to 
meet  the  train." 

The  girls  and  Walter  watched  the  operation  of  getting 
up  the  anchor  and  of  setting  the  foresail  and  jib.  They 
remained  on  deck  while  the  barge  beat  down  the  long 
reach  past  the  dockj^ards,  and  then  with  slackened  sheet8 
rounded  the  wooded  curve  down  into  Gillingham  Reach, 
then,  accompanied  by  Eoberts,  they  wept  below.  Here 
they  were  soon  hard  at  work.    The  greal  were 

opened,  and  mattresses  and  bedclothes  brought  out. 

"  This  reminds  one  of  our  work  when  you  first  came 
to  us,"  Netta  laughed,  as  they  made  the  bed. 

"  Yes,  it  is  like  old  times,  certainly.  We  used  to  like 
to  work  then,  because  we  were  doing  it  together;  we  like 
it  still  more  to-day,  because  not  only  are  we  together, 
but  we  are  looking  forward  to  the  delight  that  we  are 
going  to  give." 

Carpets  were  laid  down,  curtains  hung  to  the  bed, 
and  a  wash-hand  stand  fixed  in  its  place.  A  hamper 
of  crockery  was  unpacked  and  the  contents  placed  on 
the  shelves  that  had  been  made  for  them,  and  cooking 
utensils  arranged  on  the  stove,  which  had  been  obtained 
for  them  by  the  builder.  By  this  time  Eoberts  had 
screwed  up  the  hooks  in  the  long  cupboards,  and  in  every 
spot  round  both  cabins  where  they  could  be  made  availa- 
ble. Then  numerous  japanned  tin  boxes,  filled  with  tea, 
sugar,  and  other  groceries,  were  stowed  away,  and  a 
large  one  with  a  label,  "  Tobacco,"  placed  on  a  shelf  for 
Bill  Nibson's  special  delectation.  Curtains  that  could 
be  drawn  were  fixed  to  the  skylights,  looking-glasses 
fastened  against  the  walls,  and  by  the  time  that  the 
barge  neared  Sheerness  their  labors  were  finished.  Then 
the    forward    cabin    was    similarly    made    comfortable. 


308  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

Walter  had  assisted  to  the  best  of  his  power  in  all  the 
arrangements,  and  when  he  became  tired  was  allowed 
to  go  up  on  deck,  on  his  promise  to  remain  quiet  by  the 
side  of  the  helmsman. 

"  Now  I  think  that  everything  is  in  its  place,"  Hilda 
said  at  last,  "  and  really  they  make  two  very  pretty  little 
rooms.  I  can't  say  that  the  one  in  the  bow  is  pretty, 
but  at  any  rate  it  is  thoroughly  comfortable,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  Joshua  will  be  as  pleased  with  it  as  the 
Nibsons  are  with  theirs.  Oh,  dear,  how  dusty  one  gets! 
and  we  never  thought  of  getting  water  on  board  for  the 
jugs." 

On  going  up  on  deck,  however,  they  observed  two  bar- 
rels lashed  together. 

"  Are  those  water?  "  Hilda  asked  the  man  at  the  tiller. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  How  do  you  get  it  out?     I  don't  see  a  tap." 

"  You  put  that  little  xiwnp  lying  by  the  side  into  the 
bunghole.    I  will  do  it  W  vou.  miss." 

"  Now  we  will  go  downstairs  and  tidy  up,  and  then 
come  and  sit  up  here  and  enjoy  ourselves,"  said  Hilda.  _ 

When  they  were  below  they  heard  a  rattle  of  the  chain, 
and,  on  going  up,  found  that  the  barge  had  come  to 
anchor  in  the  midst  of  some  thirty  or  forty  others.  The 
foresail  had  been  run  down  and  the  jib  lowered,  but  the 
great  mainsail,  with  its  huge,  brightly  painted  sprit,  was 
still  standing.  Roberts  now  opened  a  hamper  that  had 
been  left  on  deck,  and  produced  luncheon.  Cold  meat 
and  beer  were  handed  to  the  two  watermen,  who  went 
up  into  the  bow  to  eat  it.  An  hour  later  the  tide  began 
to  slacken,  and  many  of  the  barges  got  up  sail. 

"Shall  we  get  up  the  anchor,  ma'am?"  one  of  the 
watermen  asked.  , 

"  There's  plenty  of  time,  is  there  not?''  Hilda  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  but  we  thought  that  you  would  like  to 
see  how  she  goes  with  the  others." 

".¥«,  I  should  like  that,"  Hilda  said,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  barge  was  under  sail  again. 

"She  is  a  clipper,  and  no  mistake/'  the  man  at  the 


A  NEW  BARGE.  309 

tiller  said,  as  one  by  one  they  passed  the  barges  that  had 
started  ahead  of  them,  and  Walter  clapped  his  hands  in 
delight. 

"  We  may  as  well  go  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
Hope,  miss.  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  back 
again  before  there  is  water  enough  for  us  in  the  creek." 

For  three  hours  they  sailed  about,  the  girls  enjoying 
it  as  much  as  Walter. 

"  I  do  think,  Netta,  that  I  shall  have  to  buy  a  barge 
on  my  own  account.  It  is  splendid,  and,  after  all,  the 
cabins  are  large  enough  for  anything." 

"  You  had  better  have  a  yacht,"  Netta  laughed.  "  You 
would  soon  get  tired  of  always  going  up  and  down  the 
river." 

"  One  might  do  worse,"  Hilda  said.  "  Of  course,  now 
we  shall  give  up  that  big  house  in  Hyde  Park  Gardens, 
which  is  ridiculous  for  me  and  the  boy.  We  have  each 
got  a  country  house,  and  when  we  want  a  thorough 
change  I  would  infinitely  rather  have  a  yacht  than  a 
small  house  in  town.  I  don't  suppose  that  it  would  cost 
very  much  more.  Besides,  you  know,  it  is  arranged  that 
I  am  always  to  have  rooms  at  your  house  at  the  institute. 
That  is  to  be  the  next  thing  seen  after;  you  know  that 
is  quite  agreed  upon." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  be  at  work  again,"  Netta  said. 
"Now  that  Walter  is  found,  there  is  certainly  nothing 
to  keep  us  any  longer  in  town."  i 

"  I  know  that  it  must  have  been  horribly  dull  for  you, 
Netta,  but  you  see  that  you  are  partly  to  blame  yourself 
for  refusing  to  go  out  with  me." 

"That  would  have  been  duller  still,"  Netta  laughed. 
"I  should  have  been  a  long  time  before  I  got  to  know; 
people,  and  there  is  no  good  ir»  knowing  people  when, 
you  are  going  right  away  from  them  in  a  short  time,  and 
may  never  meci  them  again." 

At  last  the  men  said  that  there  would  be  water 
enough  to  get  up  the  creek. 

"  We  shan't  be  able  to  sail  up,  miss;  you  see,  the  wind! 
Will  be  right  in  our  teeth.     But  that  don't  matter;  we 


31<-  THE  LOST  HEIR 

can  pole  her  up.  The  tide  will  take  us  along,  and  we 
shall  only  have  to  keep  her  straight  and  get  her  round 
the  corners." 

"Are  you  sure  that  there  will  be  water  enough?" 
"  Yes,  miss.    You  see,  she  is  empty,  and  doesn't  draw 
much  more  than  a  foot  of  water." 

As  they  entered  the  haven  the  head  sails  were  dropped 
and  the  mainsail  brailed  up.  The  tide  was  running  in 
strong,  and,  as  the  men  had  said,  they  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  keep  the  barge  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  channel. 

"  How  do  you  think  they  will  be  coming,  Bill?"  Betsy 
Nibson  said,  as  she  joined  her  husband,  who  was  stand- 
ing on  the  bank  dressed  in  his  Sunday  clothes. 

"I  cannot  say,  Betsy;  if  I  had  known  I  should  have 
gone  to  meet  them.  They  cannot  drive  here  from  Pitsea, 
but  must  walk;  and,  of  course,  I  would  have  been  there 
if  I  had  been  sure  of  their  coming  that  way.  But  I 
should  think  most  likely  that  they  will  drive  to  the  haven 
and  come  up  by  boat." 

"  There  is  a  new  barge  coming  up  the  creek,"  Joshua 
said.  "You  can  see  that  she  is  new  by  her  spars  and 
sails." 

"  That's  so,  boy,"  Bill  agreed.  "  She  has  got  a  flag 
I  haven't  seen  before  at  her  masthead.  .  It  is  white,  and 
I  think  there  are  some  red  letters  on  it — her  name,  I 
suppose.  'Tis  not  often  that  a  new  barge  comes  up  to 
Pitsea.  She  is  a  fine-looking  craft,"  he  went  on,  as  a 
turning  in  the  creek  brought  her  wholly  into  view.  "  A 
first-class  barge,  I  should  say.  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt 
about  her  being  new.  I  should  say,  from  the  look  of  her 
spars,  she  cannot  have  made  many  trips  up  and  down  the 
river." 

"She  has  got  a  party  on  board,"  Mrs.  Nibson  said 
presently.  "  There  are  two  women  and  a  child.  Perhaps 
it's  them,  Bill.  They  may  have  some  friend  in  the  barge 
line,  and  he  has  offer  d  to  bring  them  down,  seeing  that 
this  is  a  difficult  place  to  get  at." 

"T  believe  jou  are  right,  Betsy.     They  are  too  far 


A  NEW  BARGE.  311 

off  to  see  their  faces,  but  they  are  certainly  not  barge 
people." 

"They  are  waving  their  handkerchiefs!"  Betsy  ex- 
claimed; "  it  is  them,  sure  enough.  Well,  we  have  won- 
dered how  they  would  come  down,  but  we  never  thought 
of  a  barge."    • 

The  three  hurried  along  the  bank  to  meet  the  barge. 
Walter  danced  and  waved  his  hat  and  shouted  loudly  to 
them  as  they  approached. 

"  You  did  not  expect  to  see  us  arrive  in  a  barge,  Mrs. 
Nibson,"  Hilda  called  out  as  they  came  abreast  of  them. 

"  No,  indeed,  miss;  we  talked  it  over  together  as  to 
how  you  would  come,  but  we  never  thought  of  a  barge." 

"  It  belongs  to  a  friend  of  ours,  and  we  thought  that 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  way  of  coming.  She  is  a  new  boat. 
You  must  come  on  board  and  have  a  look  at  her  before 
we  land." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  barge  was  alongside  the  bank, 
opposite  the  house.  A  plank  was  run  across  and  Walter 
scampered  over  it  to  his  friends. 

"Bless  his  little  face!"  Mrs.  Nibson  said,  as  she  lifted 
him  up  to  kiss  her.  "  What  a  darling  he  looks,  Bill!  And 
he  has  not  forgotten  us  a  bit." 

"  He  could  not  well  forget  in  a  week,"  Bill  said,  rather 
gruffly,  for  he,  too,  was  moved  by  the  warmth  of  the 
child's  welcome.  "  Well,  let  us  go  on  board  and  pay  our 
respects.  She  is  a  fine  barge,  surely;  and  she  has  got 
the  same  name  as  the  child." 

"  Why,  it  is  not  '  Jack,' "  his  wife  said,  looking  up. 

"  Jack!  "  her  husband  repeated  scornfully.  "  Didn't 
they  call  him  Walter  the  other  day?  Go  on,  wife;  the 
lady  is  waiting  at  the  end  of  the  plank  for  you." 

Mrs.  Nibson  put  the  child  down  and  followed  him 
across  the  plank,  smoothing  her  apron  as  she  went. 

"My  best  respects,  miss,"  she  said,  as  Hilda  shook 
hands  with  her  warmly. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  you  again,  Mrs.  Nibson,  and  hope 
that  you  have  not  missed  Walter  very  much." 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  have  not  missed  him  a  good  deal, 


312  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

miss,  but,  luckily,  we  have  had  other  things  to  think 
about.  We  are  giving  up  the  farm;  it  is  lonesome  here 
in  the  winter,  and  I  am  going  to  take  to  barge  life 
again." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this  barge,  Mr.  Nibson?  " 
Hilda  asked. 

"  I  allow  she  is  a  handsome  craft,  and  she  ought  to 
be  fast/' 

"  She  is  fast.  We  have  been  sailing  about  until  there 
was  enough  water  in  the  creek,  and  we  have  passed  every 
barge  that  we  have  come  near.  She  is  comfortable,  too. 
Come  below  and  look  at  her  cabin." 

"  Well,  I  never! "  Mrs.  Nibson  said,  pausing  in 
astonishment  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  "  I  have  been 
in  many  barge  cabins,  but  never  saw  one  like  this."  Her 
surprise  increased  when  the  door  of  the  bulkhead  was 
opened  and  she  saw  the  sleeping  cabin  beyond.  "  Did 
you  ever,  Bill?" 

"  No,  I  never  saw  two  cabins  in  a  barge  before,"  her 
husband  said.  "I  suppose,  miss,  the  owner  must  have 
had  the  cabin  speciajjjir  done  up  for  his  own  use  some- 
times, and  the  crew  nved  forward." 

"  There  is  a  place  forward  for  the  second  hand,"  she 
replied,  "  and  I  suppose  the  owner  will  sleep  here." 

"  Of  course  it  is  a  loss  of  space,  but  she  will  carry  a 
big  load,  too.  Who  is  the  owner,  miss,  if  I  may  make  so 
bold  as  to  ask?  " 

"  The  registered  owner  is  William  Gibson,"  Hilda  said 
quietly. 

The  bargeman  and  his  wife  gazed  at  each  other  in 
astonishment. 

"  But,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  I  have  never  heard  of 
any  owner  of  that  name." 

"  Except  yourself,  Nibson." 

"  Yes,  except  myself;  but  I  am  not  an  owner,  as  I  have 
sold  the  Mary  Ann." 

"  There  is  no  other  owner  now,"  she  said,  "  that  I 
know  of,  of  that  name.  The  barge  is  yours.  It  is 
bought  as  testimony  of  our  gratitude  for  the  kindness 


A  NEW  BARGE.  313 

-fciiat  you  have  shown  Walter,  and  you  see  it  is  named 
ifter  him." 

"  It  is  too  much,  miss,"  said  Bill  huskily,  while  his 
wife  burst  into  tears.  "  It  is  too  much  altogether.  We 
only  did  our  duty  to  the  child,  and  we  were  well  paid 
for  it." 

"  You  did  more  than  your  duty,"  Hilda  said.  "  The 
money  might  pay  for  food  and  shelter  and  clothes,  but 
money  cannot  buy  love,  and  that  is  what  you  gave,  both 
of  you;  and  it  is  for  that  that  we  now  pay  as  well  as 
we  can." 

"  Miss  Covington  should  say  '  1/  "  Netta  broke  in,  "  for 
it  is  her  present  entirely.  Walter's  trustees  could  not 
touch  his  money  for  the  purpose,  and  so  she  has  done  it 
herself." 

"Hush,  Netta!  You  should  have  said  nothing  about 
it,"  Hilda  said;  and  then,  turning  to  Nibson,  went  on, 
UI  am  his  nearest  relative — his  only  relative,  in  fact — 
besides  being  his  guardian,  and,  therefore,  naturally  I 
am  the  most  interested  in  his  happiness;  and  as,  fortu- 
nately, I  am  myself  very  well  off,  I  can  well  afford  the 
pleasure  of  helping  those  who  have  been  so  good  to  him. 
rlease  do  not  say  anything  more  about  it.  Now  we  will 
go  on  deck  for  a  few  minutes,  and  leave  you  and  your 
wife  to  look  round.    We  will  show  Joshua  his  cabin." 

So  saying,  she  and  Netta  went  on  deck.  Joshua,  led 
by  Walter,  was  just  crossing  the  plank.  He  had  not  re- 
ceived a  special  invitation,  and  he  felt  too  shy  to  go  on 
board  with  these  ladies  present.  Walter,  however,  had 
tun  across  to  him,  and  at  last  persuaded  him  to  come. 

"  Well,  Joshua,"  Hilda  said,  as  she  reached  him,  "  what 
3o  you  think  of  the  barge?" 

"  She  is  as  good  a  one  as  ever  I  seed,"  the  boy  said. 

"  Well,  Joshua,  she  belongs  to  Mr.  Mbson." 

"  To  Bill  ?  "  Joshua  exclaimed.  "  You  don't  mean  it, 
<ttiss." 

"I  do  mean  it,"  she  said;  "this  is  his  barge." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  have  thought  that  Bill  was  that 
tltf  ull  "  -Toshua  exclaimed  almost  indignantly.     "  Fancy 


3l4  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

his  keeping  it  from  the  missis  and  me  that  he  had  been 
and  bought  a  new  barge!  But  she  is  a  fine  one,  there 
aint  no  doubt  about  that/' 

"Come  forward  and  look  at  your  cabin,  Joshua. 
I  think  you  will  say  that  it  is  more  comfortable  than 
usual." 

"  Well,  I  am  blowed! "  the  boy  ejaculated,  as  he  fol- 
lowed her  down  the  ladder  and  looked  round.  "Why, 
it  is  a  palace,  that  is  wot  it  is;  it  is  more  comfortable 
than  the  master's  cabin  aft  in  most  barges.  And  what 
a  bed!    Why,  it  is  soft  enough  for  a  hemperor." 

"There  are  no  sheets,  Joshua.  They  told  me  that 
the  men  never  use  sheets  in  barges." 

"Lor'  bless  you!  no,  ma'am.  We  mostly  stretch  our- 
selves on  the  locker  and  roll  ourselves  up  in  a  blanket, 
if  we  are  lucky  enough  to  have  one.  Why,  I  don't  know 
as  I  shan't  be  afraid  of  getting  into  that  bed,  though 
I  does  take  a  header  in  the  water  every  morning.  There 
are  lockers  on  both  sides,  too,  and  a  basin.  Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  basin?  Why,  miss,  we  alius 
washes  in  the  pail  on  deck." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  that  it  would  be  a  good  deal 
more  comfortable  to  wash  down  here  in  a  basin  on  a 
cold  morning." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  might,  miss;  it  be  sharp  some- 
times outside.  Why,  there  is  oilcloth  all  over  the  floor, 
and  a  mat  to  wipe  one's  feet  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder, 
and  a  rug  by  the  side  of  the  bed!  I  never  did  see  such 
things.  Bill  must  have  gone  clean  off  his  chump.  Well, 
I  am  blessed!  " 

"  It  is  Miss  Covington  who  has  given  Bill  the  barge 
and  seen  to  its  being  fitted  up,"  Netta  said,  "and  she 
has  done  her  best  to  make  your  cabin  as  comfortable  as 
possible,  because  you  have  been  so  kind  to  Walter." 

"  And  I  hope  to  do  some  more  for  you,  Joshua,  when 
I  can  see  my  way  to  do  it.  You  will  find  two  or  three 
suits  of  clothes  for  your  work  in  those  lockers.  I  do 
not  know  that  they  will  quite  fit,  but  I  dare  say  if  they 
don't  Mrs.  Nibson  can  alter  them  for  you,  and  vou  will 


A  NEW  BARGE.  315 

find  shnTs  and  warm  underclothing,  and  so  on,  in  that 
cupboard." 

Joshua  sat  down  suddenly  on  a  locker,  completely  over- 
powered with  what  seemed  to  him  the  immensity  of  his 
possessions. 

There  the  girls  left  him,  and  they  went  up  on  deck 
again. 

Going  aft,  they  sat  down  and  talked  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  were  then  joined  by  Nibson  and  his  wife.  The  latter 
still  bore  traces  of  tears  on  her  cheeks,  and  there  was  a 
suspicious  redness  about  Bill's  eyes. 

"  We  won't  try  to  say  what  we  would  like  to  say,"  the 
man  began,  "  'cause  we  could  not  say  it,  but  we  feels  it 
just  the  same.  Here  we  are  with  everything  man  or 
woman  could  wish  for,  ready  to  hand." 

"  As  I  have  said  before,  Nibson,  please  do  not  say  any- 
thing more  about  it.  It  has  made  me  quite  as  happy 
to  get  this  barge  for  you,  and  to  make  it  comfortable, 
as  it  can  do  you  both  to  receive  it.  And  now  we  will 
go  ashore." 

In  the  house  they  found  that  tea  was  ready,  save  pour- 
ing the  water  into  "the  pot.  A  ham  and  a  couple  of  cold 
chickens  were  on  the  table,  and  jam  and  honey  were 
specially  provided  for  Walter.  Joshua  did  not  make  one 
of  the  party.  After  recovering  from  the  contemplation 
of  his  own  cabin  he  had  gone  aft  and  remained  in  almost 
awe-struck  admiration  at  the  comfort  and  conveniences 
there,  until  summoned  by  Bill  to  take  his  place  and  help 
to  get  the  new  boat  into  the  water,  and  to  row  the  ladies 
down  to  Hole  Haven. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

A    CRUSHING    EXPOSURE. 

The  c^se  of  the  application  by  John  Simcoe  for  ail 
order  for  the  trustees  of  the  will  of  the  late  General 
Mathieson  to  carry  its  provisions  into  effect  was  on  the 
list  of  cases  for  the  day.  Tom  Roberts  was  walking  up 
and  down  in  Westminster  Hall,  waiting  for  it  to  come 
on,  when  he  saw  a  face  he  knew. 

"Hullo,  Sergeant  Nichol,  what  brings  you  here?" 

"Just  curiosity,  Roberts.  I  happened  to  see  in  the 
list  of  cases  one  of  Simcoe  against  the  trustees  of  Gen- 
eral Mathieson.  'What/  I  said  to  himself,  'Simcoe? 
That  is  the  name  of  the  chap  who  saved  General  Mathie- 
.son's  life.'  I  remember  their  being  both  brought  into 
cantonment,  as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday.  I  was  with 
Paymaster-Sergeant  Sanderson,  the  fellow  who  bolted  a 
short  time  afterwards  with  three  hundred  pounds  from 
the  pay-chest  and  never  was  heard  of  afterwards.  We 
heard  that  Simcoe  was  drowned  at  sea;  and  sorry  we  all 
were,  for  a  braver  fellow  never  stepped  in  shoe  leather, 
and  there  was  not  a  man  there  who  did  not  feel  that  he 
owed  him  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  saving  the  brigadier's 
life.  So  when  I  saw  the  paper  I  said  to  myself,  '  Either 
the  man  was  not  drowned  at  all,  or  he  must  be  some  re- 
lation of  his.  I  will  go  into  court  and  have  a  look  at 
him.' " 

"  It  is  the  same  man,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that, 
though  he  may  be  as  brave  as  a  lion,  he  is  a  rogue.  But 
you  can  see  him  without  going  into  court.  That  is  him, 
talking  with  the  man  in  a  wig  and  gown  and  that  little 
man  in  black,  who  is,  I  suppose,  his  lawyer.  He  knows 
me,  so  I  won't  go  near  him;  but  you  can  walk  as  close  as 
you  like  to  him,  and  take  a  good  look  at  him." 

316 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSURE.  317 

iTot  content  with  looking  once,  Sergeant  Nichol  passed 
him  backwards  and  forwards  three  times.  When  he  re- 
joined Eoberts  the  latter  saw  that  he  looked  flushed  and 
excited. 

"What  is  it,  sergeant?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  Simcoe  at  all,"  the  sergeant  said. 
"  It  is  that  man  Sanderson  I  was  speaking  about  just 
now.  Several  of  us  noticed  how  like  he  was  to  Simcoe, 
but  the  expression  of  their  faces  was  different.  Simcoe 
was  five  or  six  years  younger,  and  had  a  pleasant  ex- 
pression; Sanderson  had  a  hard  face.  None  of  us  liked 
him,  he  was  a  man  one  could  never  get  friendly  with; 
you  might  be  in  the  same  mess  for  years  and  not  know 
more  about  him  at  the  end  than  you  did  at  the  beginning. 
Of  course,  they  would  both  be  changed  a  good  deal  by 
this  time,  but  I  don't  believe  that  Simcoe  would  have 
grown  so  as  to  be  like  this  man;  and  I  am  sure  that 
Sanderson  would.  He  had  a  mark  on  him  that  I  should 
know  him  by.  One  day  when  he  was  a  recruit  his  musket 
went  off,  and  the  ball  went  through  his  left  forearm. 
It  was  only  a  flesh  wound,  but  it  left  a  blackened  scar, 
and  I  will  bet  all  that  I  am  worth  that  if  you  turned  up 
that  fellow's  sleeve  you  would  find  it  there*." 

"  That  is  very  important,  sergeant,  I  will  go  and  tell 
my  young  lady;  she  is  talking  with  her  lawyers  and 
Colonel  Bulstrode  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall."' 

Hilda  clapped  her  hands.- 

"  What  do  you  say  now,  Mr.  Pettigrew?  I  was  right, 
after  all.  Bring  your  friend  up,  Eoberts,  and  let  us  hear 
his  story  ourselves." 

Sergeant  Nichol  was  fetched,  and  repeated  the  story 
that  he  had  told  to  Eoberts. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  sergeant,"  the  barrister  said. 
"  Please  remain  here  while  we  talk  it  over.  What  do 
you  think  of  this,  Mr.  Pettigrew?" 

"  It  would  seem  to  explain  the  whole  matter  that  has 
puzzled  us  so.  I  did  not  tell  you,  because  it  was  not  in 
my  opinion  at  all  necessary  to  the  case,  that  Miss  Cov- 
ington  has   always   maintained   that   the   man   was   not 


31&  THE  LOST  HEIR, 

Simcoe,  and  so  positive  was  she  that  her  friend,  Miss 
Purcell,  went  down  to  Stowmarket  to  make  inquiries. 
It  was  certainly  believed  by  his  friends  there  that  he 
was  Simcoe,  and  this  to  my  mind  was  quite  conclusive. 
But  I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  did  not  satisfy  Miss 
Covington." 

"  May  I  ask,  Miss  Covington,  why  you  took  up  that 
opinion  in  the  first  place?" 

"  Because  I  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  the  sort  of 
man  who  would  have  risked  his  life  for  another.  After 
Miss  Pureell  came  back  from  Stowmarket  we  found  out 
that  just  before  he  called  on  my  uncle  he  advertised  for 
relatives  of  the  late  John  Simcoe,  and  that  the  advertise- 
ment appeared  not  in  the  Suffolk  papers  only,  but  in 
the  London  and  provincial  papers  all  over  the  country; 
and  it  was  evident,  if  this  man  was  John  Simcoe,  he 
would  not  advertise  all  over  England,  instead  of  going 
down  to  Stowmarket,  where  his  family  lived,  and  where 
he  himself  had  lived  for  years.  He  received  a  reply 
from  an  eld  lady,  an  aunt  of  John  Simcoe's,  living  there, 
went  down  and  saluted  her  as  his  aunt,  at  once  offered 
to  settle  a  pension  of  fifty  pounds  a  year  on  her,  and 
after  remaining  for  three  days  in  her  house,  no  doubt 
listening  to  her  gossip  about  all  John  Simcoe's  friends, 
went  and  introduced  himself  to  them.  There  was  prob- 
ably some  resemblance  in  height  and  figure,  and  an 
absence  of  twenty  years  would  have  effected  a  change 
in  his  face,  so  that,  when  it  was  found  that  his  aunt  un- 
hesitatingly accepted  him,  the  people  there  had  no  doubt 
whatever  that  it  was  their  old  acquaintance.  Therefore, 
this  in  no  way  shook  my  belief  that  he  was  not  the  man. 

"  It  turns  out  now,  you  see,  that  there  was  another 
man  at  Benares  at  the  time  who  was  remarkably  like 
him,  and  that  this  man  was  a  scoundrel  and  a  thief. 
When  he  deserted  no  doubt  he  would  take  another  name, 
and  having  doubtless  heard  that  John  Simcoe  was  dead, 
and  remembering  the  remarks  made  as  to  his  likeness 
to  him,  he  was  as  likely  to  take  that  name  as  any  other, 
though  probably  not  with  any  idea  of  making  any  special 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSURE.  319 

use  .x  it.  When  in  England  he  may  have  heard  General 
Mathieson's  name  mentioned,  and  remembering  that 
Simcoe  had  saved  the  life  of  the  General,  may  have 
thought  that  the  name  and  the  likeness  might  enable 
him  to  personate  the  man.  He  first  set  about  establish- 
ing his  identity  by  going  down  to  Stowmarket,  and 
after  that  it  was  easy.  I  have  thought  it  all  over  so 
many  times  that  although  it  never  struck  me  that  there 
might  have  been  at  Benares  some  man  bearing  a  striking 
resemblance  to  John  Simcoe,  all  the  rest  is  exactly  as  I 
had  figured  it  out  to  my  mind.  Now  I  will  leave  you, 
gentlemen,  to  decide  what  use  you  will  make  of  the  dis- 
covery, while  I  go  and  tell  my  friends  of  it." 

The  seats  allotted  to  the  general  public  were  empty, 
as  a  case  of  this  sort  offered  but  slight  attraction  even 
to  the  loungers  in  the  hall,  but  a  large  number  of 
barristers  were  present.  It  had  been  whispered  about 
that  there  were  likely  to  be  some  unexpected  develop- 
ments in  the  case.  The  counsel  engaged  on  both  sides 
were  the  leaders  of  the  profession,  who  could  hardly 
have  been  expected  to  be  retained  in  a  mere  case  of  a 
formal  application  for  an  order  for  trustees  to  act  upon 
a  will. 

'•'  The  facts  of  the  case,  my  lord,"  the  counsel  who 
led  for  John  Simcoe  commenced,  "are  simple,  and  we 
are  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  the  trustees  of  the  late 
General  Mathieson  can  offer  any  opposition  to  our  ob- 
taining the  order  asked  for.  Nothing  can  be  more 
straightforward  than  the  facts.  The  late  General 
Mathieson,  early  in  March,  1852,  made  a  will,  which  was 
duly  signed  and  witnessed,  bequeathing,  among  other 
legacies,  the  amount  of  ten  thousand  pounds  to  Mr.  John 
Simcoe,  as  a  mark  of  his  gratitude  for  his  having  saved 
him  from  a  tiger  some  twenty  years  before  in  India.  The 
act  was  one  of  heroic  bravery,  and  Mr.  Simcoe  nearly 
lost  his  own  life  in  saving  that  of  the  General" 

He  then  related  with  dramatic  power  the  incidents 
of  the  struggle. 

*  There  is,  then,  no  matter  of  surprise  that  this  large 


320  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

legacy  should  have  been  left  to  Mr.  Sinicoe  by  the  Gen- 
eral, who  was  a  man  of  considerable  wealth.  The  bulk 
of  the  property  was  left  to  his  grandson,  and  in  the 
event  of  his  dying  before  coming  of  age  it  was  to  go  to 
a  niece,  a  Miss  Covington,  to  whom  only  a  small  legacy 
was  left;  she  being  herself  mistress  of  an  estate  and  well 
provided  for.  Two  months  afterwards  the  General,  upon 
reflection,  decided  to  enlarge  his  gift  to  Mr.  Simcoe,  and 
he,  therefore,  in  another  will  named  him,  in  place  of 
Miss  Covington,  who  was  amply  provided  for,  his  heir 
in  the  event  of  his  grandson's  death.  I  may  say  that 
the  second  will  was  not  drawn  up  by  the  solicitors  who 
had  framed  the  first  will.  Probably,  as  often  happens, 
the  General  preferred  that  the  change  he  had  effected 
should  not  be  known  until  after  his  death,  even  to  his 
family  solicitors.  He,  therefore,  went  to  a  firm  of  equal 
respectability  and  standing,  Messrs.  Halstead  &  James, 
who  have  made  an  affidavit  that  he  interviewed  them 
personally  on  the  matter,  and  gave  them  written  in- 
structions for  drawing  up  his  will,  and  signed  it  in  their 
presence. 

"  I  may  say  that  in  all  other  respects,  including  the 
legacy  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  the  wills  were  absolutely 
identical.  The  trustees,  after  waiting  until  the  last  day 
permitted  by  law,  have,  to  our  client's  surprise,  proved 
the  first  of  these  two  wills,  ignoring  the  second;  on  what 
ground  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand.  As  my  client  is 
entitled  to  ten  thousand  pounds  under  either  will  it 
might  be  thought  that  the  change  would  make  little 
difference  to  him;  but  unhappily  the  circumstances  have 
entirely  changed  by  the  fact  that  the  General's  grand- 
son was  lost  or  stolen  on  the  day  before  his  death,  and 
in  spite  of  the  most  active  efforts  of  the  police,  and  the 
offer  of  large  rewards — my  client,  who  was  deeply 
affected  by  the  loss  of  the  child,  himself  offering  a  thou- 
sand pounds  for  news  of  his  whereabouts — nothing  was 
heard  of  him  until  two  months  after  his  disappearance, 
when  his  body  was  found  in  the  canal  at  Paddington, 
and  after  hearing  evidence  of  identification,  and  examin- 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSURE.  321 

ing  the  clothes,  which  all  parties  agreed  to  be  those  of 
the  missing  child,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  that  the 
body  was  that  of  Walter  Kivington,  and  that  there  was 
no  proof  of  how  he  came  by  his  end. 

"  As  the  residence  of  General  Mathieson  was  in  Hvde 
Park  Gardens,  no   doubt  the  poor  child  strolled  away 
from  the  care  of  a  careless  nurse,  came  to  the  canal,  ami 
walking  near  the  bank,  fell  in  and  was  drowned      No 
one  could  have  been  more  grieved  than  my  client  at  this 
and  although  it  practically  put  him  into  possession  of  a 
large  property,  he  would,  I  am  sure,  gladly  forfeit  a  laro-e 
portion  of  it  rather  than  come  into  possession  of  it  in 
so  melancholy  a  manner.    I  have  not  heard  of  the  slight- 
est reason  why  the  last  will  of  General  Mathieson  should 
be   put   aside.     I  believe  that  no   question   could  arise 
as  to  his  state  of  mind  at  the  time  that  it  was  made.    It 
may  be  that  a  plea  of  undue  influence  may  be  raised, 
but  this,  to  those  who  knew  the  General,  would  appear 
absurd.     He  was  a  man  of  active  habits,  and  vigorous 
both  m  mmd  and  body.     Here  was  no  case  of  a  man 
living  m  the  house  and  influencing  an  old  gentleman  ap- 
proaching his  dotage.     They  met  only  at  clubs    and  at 
dinners;    and    although    the    General    was    rightly    and 
naturally  attached  to   Simcoe,   he   was   certainly  not  a 
man  to  be  influenced  against  his  will.     I  beg,  therefore 
to  ask,  my  lord,  that  you  will  pronounce  in  favor  of  this 
second  will,  and  issue  an  order  to  the  trustees  to  carry 
out  its  provisions  forthwith." 

"But  upon  the  face  of  your  appeal  to  the  court,  Sir 
Henry,  there  is  no  question  as  to  the  validity  of  the  will 
you  propound  set  up  by  the  trustees?" 

"  None,  my  lord.  In  fact,  at  the  time  the  case  was  put 
down  we  were  ignorant  that  there  would  be  any  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  trustees  to  dispute  the  second  will 
and  that  they  should  do  so  came  upon  us  as  a  surprise' 
However,  at  a  consultation  between  my  learned  friend 
and  myself  just  before  we  came  into  court,  it  was  agreed 
that,  if  your  lordship  would  permit  it,  we  would  take  the 
two  matters  at  once.     One  of  the  trustees  is  a  member 


322  £HE  LOST  HEIR. 

of  the  firm  who  are  and  have  been  the  family  lawyers 
of  General  Mathieson,  and  of  his  father  before  him,  for 
a  long  period  of  years.  They  are  gentlemen  of  well- 
known  honor,  who  are,  I  am  sure,  as  anxious  as  we  are 
to  obtain  from  your  lordship  a  judicial  decision  on  which 
they  can  act." 

"  It  is  irregular,"  the  judge  said,  "  but  as  both  parties 
seemed  agreed  upon  it,  it  will  doubtless  save  much 
expense  to  the  estate  if  the  whole  matter  can  be  settled 
at  once.  I  will  permit  the  whole  matter  to  be  taken. 
Now,  brother  Herbert,  we  will  hear  you  on  the  other 
side." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  my  lord,  that  it  will  be  impossible 
for  me  to  imitate  my  learned  brother  in  the  brevity  with 
which  he  opened  the  case.  So  far  from  the  facts  being 
extremely  simple,  they  are,  I  may  say,  of  a  very  compli- 
cated nature.  We  own  that  we  have  no  explanation  to 
offer  with  regard  to  the  second  will.  It  was  strange, 
very  strange,  that  General  Mathieson,  a  man  of  methodi- 
cal habits,  having  just  drawn  up  his  will,  should  go  to 
another  firm  of  solicitors  and  draw  up  a  fresh  one,  but 
the  fact  that  the  whole  of  the  minor  bequests  are  the 
same  in  the  two  wills  is  certainly  a  very  strong  proof,  as 
also  is  the  fact  that  the  instructions  for  drafting  the  will 
were  written  by  the  General  himself,  or,  at  any  rate,  by 
someone  intimately  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  that 
will,  which  we  admit  was  difficult  to  believe  could  be  the 
case,  as  the  will,  from  the  time  it  was  signed  by  the 
General,  has  not  been  out  of  Messrs.  Farmer  &  Petti- 
grew's  hands  until  it  was  taken  for  probate  the  other  day. 

"  Now,  my  lord,  I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  a 
certain  amount  of  license  while  I  go  into  this  somewhat 
singular  story.  Twenty-three  years  ago,  General  Mathie- 
son's  life  was  saved  in  India  by  Mr.  John  Simcoe.  Mr. 
Simcoe  himself  was  seriously  wounded,  and  when  he  recov- 
ered somewhat  he  was  reccommended  by  the  surgeon 
who  attended  him  to  go  down  to  Calcutta  at  once  and 
take  a  sea  voyage.  He  did  so,  and  embarked  upon  the 
ship  N&pauL  which  was  lost  in  a  terrible  gale  in  the 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSURE.  323 

Bay  of  Bengal  a  few  days  later,  with,  as  was  supposed, 
all  hands.  Twenty  years  passed,  and  then  to  the  sur- 
prise, and  I  may  say  to  the  delight  of  the  General,  who 
had  much  grieved  over  the  loss  of  his  preserver,  Mr. 
Simcoe  presented  himself.  For  a  moment  the  General  did 
not  recognize  him;  hut  it  was  not  long  before  he  became 
convinced  of  his  identity,  for  he  knew  the  officers  who  had 
been  at  the  station  at  the  time,  and  was  well  up  in  the 
gossip  of  the  place,  and  the  General  at  once  hailed  him 
as  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life,  introduced  him  to 
many  friends,  got  him  put  up  at  a  good  club,  and  became, 
I  may  say,  very  fond  of  him.  Mr.  Simcoe  brought  up  a 
friend  or  two  who  had  known  him  at  Stowmarket,  where 
he  had  an  aunt  still  living,  and  the  result  of  all  this  was 
that  the  General  requested  Messrs.  Farmer  &  Pettigrew 
to  draw  up  a  new  will  bequeathing  to  John  SimcoeDthe 
sum  of  ten  thousand  pounds. 

"Then  came  the  singular  episode  of  the  second  will. 
A  fortnight  later,  when  at  dinner  at  his  club,  the  General 
was  smitten  with  a  strange  kind  of  fit,  from  which  he 
recovered,  but  only  lived  for  a  few  months,  a  half-para- 
lyzed invalid.  He  was  attended  during  that  time  by 
Dr.  Leeds— a  gentleman  with  a  very  high  reputation, 
and  now  practicing  in  Harley  Street  as  a  consulting 
physician.  The  General  was  brought  up  to  town,  but 
broke  down  during  the  journey  and  died  two  days  later. 

*  Aow  we  come  to  the  second  strange  fact  in  this 
strange  case.  A  day  before  his  death  his  grandson, 
Walter  Eivmgton,  was  missing.  The  efforts  of  the 
police,  aided  by  a  number  of  private  detectives,  failed 
to  obtain  any  clew  to  the  child  until  a  body  w«s  found 
m  the  canal  at  Paddington.  That  the  body  was  dressed 
in  some  of  the  clothes  worn  by  the  child  when  carried  off 
was  unquestionable;' but  the  three  persons  who  knew 
Walter  Eivington  best,  namely,  Miss  Covington,  a  friend 
of  hers  named  Miss  Purcell,  who  had  been  all  the  sum- 
mer assisting  her  to  nurse  General  Mathieson,  and  the 
child  s  own  nurse,  all  declared  that  the  body  was  not  that 
of  the  General's  grandson.    They  were  unable  to  adduce 


324  THE  LOST  HEIE. 

anything  in  support  of  this  belief  beyond  the  fact  that 
the  hair  of  the  child  found  was  short  and  to  some  extent 
bristly,  whereas  that  of  Walter  Kivington  was  long  and 
silky.  The  jury,  however,  adopted  the  view  of  the  coro- 
ner that  hair,  however  soft,  when  cut  close  to  the  skull 
will  appear  more  or  less  bristly,  and  gave  a  verdict  to  the 
effect  that  the  body  was  that  of  Walter  Eivington.  Miss 
Covington  and  her  friends  refused  to  accept  the  verdict, 
and  continued  their  search  for  the  child. 

"  Without  occupying  your  attention  by  going  into  de- 
tails, my  lord,  I  may  briefly  say  that  a  close  watch  was 
set  on  Mr.  Simcoe,  and  it  was  found  that  he  was  exceed- 
ingly intimate  with  a  man  of  whom  no  one  seemed  to 
know  anything;  and  before  I  go  further  I  will  ask,  my 
lord,  that  you  will  give  orders  that  Mr.  Simcoe  shall  not 
leave  the  court  until  I'  have  finished/' 

"You  are  not  asking  without  strong  reason,  I  trust, 
brother  Herbert?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  my'  lord." 

The  order  was,  therefore,  given.  Simcoe  grew  very 
white  in  the  face,  but  otherwise  maintained  an  air  of 
stolid  indifference. 

"  I  will  now  go  back  for  a  moment,  my  lord.  General 
Mathieson  was  attended  by  three  of  the  leading  physi- 
cians in  London  at  the  time  of  his  seizure.  The  symp- 
toms were  so  peculiar  that  in  all  their  experience  they 
had  not  met  a  similar  case.  Dr.  Leeds,  however,  differed 
from  them,  but  being  their  junior  could  not  press  his 
opinion;  but  he  told  them  that  his  opinion  was  that  the 
fit  was  due  to  the  administration  of  some  drug  unknown 
to  the  British  Pharmacopoeia,  as  the  effects  were  pre- 
cisely similar  to  those  in  cases  that  he  had  read  of  in 
Africa  and  among  other  savage  people,  where  a  poison 
of  this  kind  was  used  by  the  native  fetich  men  or  wizards. 
That  opinion  was  confirmed  rather  than  diminished  by 
the  subsequent  progress  of  the  malady  and  the  final 
death  of  his  patient.  The  one  man  who  could  benefit 
by  the  General's  death  was  sitting  next  to  him  at  dinner 
at  the  time  of  his  seizure,  and  that  man,  according  to 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSURE.  325 

his  own  statement,  had  been  for  many  years  knocking 
about  among  the  savages  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  and 
the  islands  of  the  Malay  Archipelago. 

"  I  do  not  accuse  John  Simcoe  of  this  crime,  but  I 
need  hardly  say  that  the  mere  possibility  of  such  a  thing 
heightened  the  strong  feeling  entertained  by  Miss  Cov- 
ington that  Simcoe  was  the  author  of  the  abduction  of 
Walter  Rivington.  She  and  her  devoted  friend,  Miss 
Purcell,  pursued  their  investigations  with  unflagging 
energy.  They  suspected  that  the  man  who  was  very 
intimate  with  Simcoe  had  acted  as  his  agent  in  the 
matter,  and  a  casual  remark  which  was  overheard  in  a 
singular  manner,  which  will  be  explained  when  the  case 
goes  into  another  court,  that  this  man  was  going  to 
Tilbury,  gave  them  a  clew.  Then,  in  a  manner  which 
many  persons  might  find  it  very  hard  to  believe,  Miss 
Covington  learned"  from  a  conversation  between  the  two 
men,  when  together  in  a  box  at  Her  Majesty's  Theater, 
that  the  lad  was  in  charge  of  a  bargeman  living  near 
the  little  village  of  Pitsea,  in  Essex.  From  that  place, 
my  lord,  he  was  brought  last  week,  and  Miss  Covington 
will  produce  him  in  court,  if  your  lordship  wishes  to  see 
him.  Thus,  then,  it  is  immaterial  to  us  whether  your 
lordship  pronounces  for  the  first  or  second  will. 

"  But,  my  lord,  I  have  not  finished  my  story.  Under 
neither  of  the  wills  does  that  man  take  a  farthing.  The 
"money  was  left  to  John  Simcoe;  and  John  Simcoe  was 
drowned  over  twenty  years  ago.  The  man  standing  over 
there  is  one  William  Sanderson,  a  sergeant  on  the  pay- 
master's staff  at  Benares  when  the  real  John  Simcoe  was 
there.  There  happened  to  be  a  resemblance  between 
this  man  and  him,  so  strong  that  it  was  generally  re- 
marked upon  by  his  comrades.  This  man  Sanderson  de- 
serted soon  after  Simcoe  was  drowned,  taking  with  him 
three  hundred  pounds  of  the  paymaster's  money. 
There  was  a  sharp  hue  and  cry  after  him,  but  he  man- 
aged to  make  his  escape.  All  this  is  a  certainty,  but  we 
may  assume  without  much  difficulty  that  the  man 
changed  his  name  as  soon  aft  he  got  to  Caleut+a.  and 


32f  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

nothing  was  more  likely  than  that  he  should  take  th© 
name  of  John  Sirncoe,  whom  he  had  been  told  that  he 
so  strongly  resembled. 

"  For  twenty  years  we  hear  nothing  further  of  William 
Sanderson,  nor  do  we  hear  when  he  returned  to  London. 
Probably  he,  in  'some  way  or  other,  came  across  the 
name  of  General  Mathieson,  and  remembering  what 
John  Simcoe  had  done  for  the  General,  he,  on  the 
strength  of  his  personal  likeness,  and  the  fact  that  he 
had,  for  twenty  years,  gone  by  that  name,  determined 
to  introduce  himself  to  him,  with  the  result  you  know. 
He  was  clever  enough  to  know  that  he  must  answer 
questions  as  to  his  history  before  he  left  England,  and 
it  was  desirable  to  obtain  witnesses  who  would,  if  neces- 
sary, certify  to  him.  But  he  knew  nothing  of  Simcoe's 
birthplace  or  history;  so  he  inserted  advertisements  in  a 
great  number  of  London  and  provincial  newspapers,  say- 
ing that  the  relations  of  the  John  Simcoe  who  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  droAvned  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal  in 
the  year  1832  would  hear  of  something  to  their  ad- 
vantage at  the  address  given.  A  maiden  aunt,  living  at 
Stowmarket,  did  reply.  He  went  down  there  at  once, 
rushed  into  her  arms  and  called  her  aunt,  and  told  her 
that  it  was  his  intention  to  make  her  comfortable  for 
life  by  allowing  her  fifty  pounds  per  annum.  He  stayed 
with  her  for  three  days,  and  during  that  time  obtained 
from  her  gossip  full  details  of  his  boyhood  and  youth, 
■his  friends  and  their  occupation,  and  he  then  went  out 
and  called  upon  John  Simcoe's  old  companions,  all  of 
whom  took  him  on  his  own  word  and  his  knowledge  of 
the  past  and  his  recognition  by  his  aunt. 

"  So  things  might  have  remained.  This  man,  after 
undergoing  what  punishment  might  be  awarded  to  him 
for  his  abduction  of  Walter  Rivington,  could  have 
claimed  the  ten  thousand  pounds  left  him  by  General 
Mathieson,  had  it  not  been  that,  by  what  I  cannot  but 
consider  a  dispensation  of  Providence,  an  old  comrade 
of  his,  Staff-Sergeant  Nichol,  was  attracted  to  the  mill 
this  morning  by  seeing  the  name  of  Simcoe  and  that  of 


A   CRUSHING  EXPOSUK^.  32fjT 

General  Mathieson  coupled  in  the  cause  list.  This  man 
was  in  the  hall  talking  to  his  professional  advisers,  and 
Nichol,  walking  close  to  him,  to  see  if  he  could  recognize 
the  man  whom  he  had  last  seen  carried  wounded  into 
Benares,  at  once  recognized  in  the  supposed  John  Sinicoe 
the  deserter  and  thief,  Sergeant  Sanderson.  He  passed 
him  two  or  three  times,  to  assure  himself  that  he  was 
not  mistaken.  Happily  the  deserter  had  a  mark  that  was 
ineffaceable;  he  had,  as  a  recruit,  let  off  his  rifle,  and  the 
ball  had  passed  through  the  fleshy  part  of  the  forearm, 
leaving  there,  as  Sergeant  Mchol  has  informed  me,  an1 
ineffaceable  scar,  blackened  by  powder.  If  this  man  is 
not  Sergeant  Sanderson,  and  is  the  long-lost  John 
Simcoe,  he  has  but  to  pull  up  the  sleeve  of  his  left  arm 
and  show  that  it  is  without  scar." 

The  man  did  not  move;  he  was  half  stunned  by  the 
sudden  and  terrible  exposure  of  the  whole  of  his  plans. 
As  he  did  not  rise  the  counsel  said: 

"  My  lord,  I  must  ask  that  you  give  an  order  for  the 
arrest  of  this  man,  William  Sanderson,  as  a  deserter  and] 
a  thief;  also  upon  the  charge  of  conspiring,  with  others, 
the  abduction  of  Walter  Eivington." 

"  Certainly,  brother  Herbert,"  the  judge  said,  as  he 
saw  that  the  accused  made  no  motion  to  answer  the 
challenge  of  the  counsel.  "  Tipstaff,  take  that  man  into 
custody  on  the  charge  of  aiding  in  the  abduction  of 
Walter  Eivington.  As  to  the  other  charge,  I  shall  com- 
municate with  the  authorities  of  the  India  Office,  and1 
leave  it  to  them  to  prosecute  if  they  choose  to  do  so. 
After  this  lapse  of  years  they  may  not  think  it  worth! 
while  to  do  so,  especially  as  the  man  is  in  custody  on  a 
still  graver  charge." 

The  tipstaff  moved  toward  the  man,  who  roused 
himself  with  a  great  effort,  snatched  a  small  glass  ball 
from  a  pocket  inside  his  waistcoat,  thrust  it  between 
his  teeth,  and  bit  it  into  fragments,  and,  as  the  officer 
laid  his  hand  upon  him,  fell  down  in  a  fit.  Dr.  Leeds, 
who  had  come  in  just  as  the  trial  began,  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  am  a  doctor,  my  lord.    My  name  is  Leeds,  and  the 


828  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

opinion  I  held  of  the  cause  of  General  Mathieson's  death' 
is  now  proved  to  be  correct.  The  symptoms  of  this  fit 
are  precisely  similar  to  those  of  General  Mathieson's 
seizure,  and  this  man  has  taken  some  of  the  very  poison 
with  which  he  murdered  the  General." 

For  a  minute  Sanderson  struggled  in  violent  convul- 
sions, then,  as  Dr.  Leeds  bent  over  him,  his  head  fell 
back  suddenly.  Dr.  Leeds  felt  his  pulse  and  then  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"  My  lord,"  he  said,  "  the  case  is  finally  closed.  Efe 
lias  gone  to  a  higher  judgment  seat." 


■i-cs 


CHAPTEE    XXVI. 

A   LETTER   FROM    ABROAD. 

Three  days  later,  when  Hilda  returned  from  a  drive, 
she  found  that  Dr.  Leeds  was  in  the  drawing  room  with 
Miss  Purcell  and  Netta,  whose  face  at  once  told  what 
had  happened. 

"  I  have  asked  the  question  at  last,  Miss  Covington," 
Dr.  Leeds  said,  coming  forward  to  shake  hands,  "and 
Netta  has  consented  to  be  my  wife." 

"  I  am  heartily  glad.  That  you  would  ask  her  I  knew 
from  what  you  told  me;  and  although  I  knew  nothing  of 
her  thoughts  in  the  matter,  I  felt  sure  that  she  would 
hardly  say  no.  Netta,  darling,  I  am  glad.  Long  ago  I 
thought  and  hoped  that  this  would  come  about.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  such  a  happy  thing." 

"  Auntie  said  just  the  same  thing,"  Netta  said,  smiling 
through  her  tears,  as  Hilda  embraced  her.  "  As  you 
both  knew,  you  ought  to  have  given  me  seme  little  hint; 
then  I  should  not  have  been  taken  quite  by  surprise.  I 
might  have  pretended  that  I  did  not  quite  know  my  own 
mind,  and  ask  for  time  to  think  it  over,  instead  of  sur- 
rendering at  once." 

"But  you  did  make  a  condition,  Netta,"  Dr.  Leeds 
laughed. 

"  Not  a  condition — a  request,  if  you  like,  but  certainly 
not  a  condition." 

"Netta  said  that  her  heart  was  greatly  set  on  the 
work  she  had  always  looked  forward  to,  and  she  hoped 
that  I  should  let  her  do  something  in  that  way  still.  Of 
course  I  have  heard  you  both  talk  over  that  institute  a 
score  of  times,  and  I  was  as  much  impressed  as  your- 
selves with  the  enormous  boon  that  it  would  be.  I 
should  be  sorry  indeed  that  the  plan  should  be  siven 


330  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

up.  I  need  hardly  say  that  in  the  half  hour  we  have 
had  together  we  did  not  go  deeply  into  it,  but  we  will 
have  a  general  council  about  it,  as  soon  as  we  can  get 
down  to  plain  matter  of  fact.  Netta  can  talk  it  over 
with  you,  and  I  can  talk  it  over  with  her;  and  then  we 
can  hold  a  meeting,  with  Miss  Purcell  as  president  of 
the  committee." 

But  matters  were  not  finally  settled  until  the  ladies 
were  established  at  Holmwood  with  Walter,  and  Dr. 
Leeds  came  down  for  a  short  holiday  of  two  or  three 
days.  Then  the  arrangements  were  made  to  the  satis- 
faction of  all  parties.  A  Inrge  house,  standing  in  grounds 
of  considerable  extent,  was  to  be  taken  in  the  suburbs 
of  London,  Netta  was  to  be  lady  superintendent,  her 
aunt  assisting  in  the  domestic  arrangements.  Miss  Pur- 
cell insisted  that  her  savings  should  be  used  for  furnish- 
ing the  house.  Hilda  was  to  put  in  as  a  loan,  for  the 
others  would  receive  it  in  no  other  way,  five  thousand 
pounds  for  working  capital.  She  determined  to  take  a 
house  near  the  institute,  so  that  she  could  run  in  and  out 
and  assist  Netta  in  teaching.  Dr.  Leeds  was  to  drive 
up  every  morning  to  Harley  Street,  where  his  work  was 
over  by  two  o'clock,  except  when  he  had  to  attend  con- 
sultations. No  arrangements  would  be  necessary  about 
the  house,  as  this  was  the  residence  of  his  partner,  and 
he  only  had  his  own  set  of  rooms  there.  He  was  steadily 
making  his  way,  and  to  his  surprise  already  found  that 
the  report  in  the  papers  of  his  successful  diagnosis  of 
the  cause  of  General  Mathieson's  death  had  resulted  in 
a  considerable  addition  to  his  practice,  as  a  number  of 
people  consulted  him  on  obscure,  and  in  many  cases 
fanciful,  maladies,  in  which  they  had  come  to  entertain 
the  idea  that  they  were  suffering  from  the  effects  of 
poison. 

Now  that  she  was  going  to  assist  at  the  institution 
and  had  no  intention  of  entering  society  again  in  London, 
Hilda  had  no  longer  any  objection  to  the  power  she  had 
acquired  being  known,  and,  when  questioned  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  trial,  made  no  secret  of  the  manner  ™  which 


A  LETTER  FROM  ABROAh.  331 

she  had  made  the  discovery  at  the  opera,  and  mentioned 
that  she  was  going  to  assist  in  an  institution  that  was 
about  to  be  established  for  teaching  the  system  by  which 
she  had  benefited   to  deaf  children. 

The  matter  excited  considerable  interest  in  medical 
circles,  and  by  the  time  that  -the  institution  was  ready 
the  number  of  applicants  was  greater  than  could  be  en- 
tertained. By  this  time  Dr.  Leeds  and  Netta  were  mar- 
ried. The  engagement  was" a  short  one,  and  the  wedding 
took  place  within  two  months  of  their  going  down  into 
the  country  with  Hilda.  Being  anxious  that  as  many  as 
possible  should  participate  in  the  benefits  of  the  system, 
the  doors  of  the  institute  were  at  once  opened  to  out- 
door pupils,  who  were  boarded  in  the  neighborhood.  Six 
of  Netta's  pupils  in  Hanover  were  brought  over  as 
teachers,  and  a  few  weeks  from  its  being  opened  the 
institution  was  in  full  swing.  As  Dr.  Leeds  wished  that 
no  profit  whatever  be  made  by  the  undertaking,  in  which 
desire  he  was  cordially  joined  by  his  wife  and  Hilda,  the 
charges  were  extremely  low,  except  in  the  case  of  children 
of  wealthy  parents,  the  surplus  in  their  case  being  de- 
voted to  taking  in,  free  of  payment,  children  of  the 
poor. 

Before  Netta's  marriage  the  interest  in  the  Mathieson 
case  was  revived  by  the  appearance  of  a  letter  in  the 
principal  London  papers.  All  search  for  the  man  who 
had  assisted  Sanderson  in  the  abduction  of  the  child 
had  been  fruitless.  He  had  probably  taken  steps  to  re- 
ceive information  of  how  matters  were  going  on  in  court, 
and  long  before  an  officer  arrived  at  Rose  Cottage  with 
a  warrant  for  his  arrest  he  had  left,  and  the  police  had 
failed  to  find  any  trace  of  his  subsequent  movements. 
The  letter  bore  the  simple  heading,  "  United  States,'' 
and  ran  as  follows: 

"  To  the  Editor. 

"Sir:  I  scarcely  know  why  I  write  this  letter,  but  I 
Guppose  even  an  habitual  criminal  does  not  care  to  re- 
main under  an  unjust  suspicion.     I  acknowledge  that  I 


332  THE  LOST  HEIR. 

come  under  that  category,  and  that  my  life  has  been 
spent  in  crime,  although  never  once  has  suspicion 
attached  to  me,  until  I  became  mixed  up  in  the  Simcoe- 
Mathieson  affair.  I  wish  to  state  solemnly  that  I  was 
absolutely  ignorant  that  the  name  John  Simcoe  was  an 
assumed  one.  That  was  the  name  he  gave  me  when  I 
first  knew  him,  and  I  believed  that  he  was,  as  he  repre- 
sented, the  man  who  had  saved  General  Mathieson's  life 
from  a  tiger.  That  he  had  subsequently  lived  a  rough 
life  in  the  South  Seas  I  was  aware,  for  he  came  to  me 
with  a  message  sent  by  a  brother  of  mine  when  at  the 
point  of  death.  The  man  had  been  a  chum  of  his  out 
there  and  had  gallantly  carried  him  off  when  he  had 
received  the  wound  from  which  he  subsequently  died, 
in  a  fight  with  a  large  body  of  natives.  I  have  absolute 
assurance  that  this  was  true,  for  my  brother  would  never 
have  sent  anyone  to  me  except  under  altogether  ex- 
traordinary circumstances.  The  man  called  on  me  when 
he  first  returned  to  England,  but  I  saw  little  of  him 
for  the  first  two  years,  and  then  he  came  to  me  and  said 
that  he  had  looked  up  General  Mathieson,  and  that  the 
General  had  taken  to  him,  and  put  him  down  in  his  will 
for  ten  thousand  pounds.  He  said  that  General  Mathie- 
son was  worth  a  hundred  thousand,  and  that  he  had 
planned  to  get  the  whole.  Not  being  in  any  way 
squeamish,  I  agreed  at  once  to  help  him  in  any  way  in 
my  power. 

"His  plan  briefly  was  that  he  should  obtain  a  fresh 
will,  appointing  him  sole  heir  to  the  General's  estate  in 
the  event  of  a  boy  of  six  or  seven  years  old  dying  before 
he  came  of  age.  He  had  somehow  obtained  a  copy  of 
the  General's  will,  and  had  notes  in  the  General's  hand- 
writing. There  were  two  things  to  be  done,  first  that  he 
should  get  instructions  for  the  draft  of  the  will  drawn 
up  in  precise  imitation  of  the  General's  handwriting, 
containing  all  the  provisions  of  the  former  will,  except 
that  he  was  made  heir  in  place  of  Miss  Covington  in  the 
event  of  his  grandson's  death.  There  are  a  dozen  men  in 
London  who  can  imitate  handwriting  so  as  to  defy  de- 


A  LETTER  FROM  ABROAD.  333 

tection,  and  I  introduced  him  to  one  of  them,  who  drew 
up  the  instructions.     Then  I  introduced  him  to  a  man 

who  is  the  cleverest  I  know — and  I  know  most  of  them 

at  getting  up  disguises. 

"He  had  already  ascertained  that  the  General  had 
on  one  occasion  been  for  a  minute  or  two  in  the  offices 
of  Messrs.  Halstead  &  James.  They  would,  therefore, 
have  a  vague,  and  only  a  vague,  remembrance  of  him! 
He  had  obtained  a  photograph  of  the  General,  who  was 
about  his  own  height  and  figure,  and  although  there  was 
no  facial  resemblance,  the  man,  by  the  aid  of  this  photo- 
graph, converted  him  into  a  likeness  of  the  General  that 
would  pass  with  anyone  who  had  seen  him  but  once 
casually.  So  disguised,  he  went  to  the  offices  of  these 
solicitors,  told  a  plausible  story,  and  gave  them  the 
written  instructions.  In  the  meantime  he  had  been 
practicing  the  General's  signature,  and  being  a  good  pen- 
man had  got  to  imitate  it  so  accurately  that  I  doubt  if 
any  expert  would  have  suspected  the  forgery.  The 
lawyers  were  completely  deceived,  and  he  had  only  to 
go  there  again  three  days  later,  in  the  same  disguise,  and 
sign  the  will.  & 

"  So  much  for  that.  Then  came  the  General's  seizure. 
I  most  solemnly  declare  that  I  had  no  shadow  of  suspicion 
that  it  was  not  a  natural  fit,  and  that  if  I  had  had  such  a 
suspicion  I  should  have  chucked  the  whole  thing  over  at 
once,  for  though,  as  I  have  said,  an  habitual  criminal, 
that  is  to  say,  one  who  plans  and  directs  what  may  be 
called  sensational  robberies,  I  have  always  insisted  that 
the  men  who  have  worked  under  me  should  go  unpro- 
vided with  arms  of  any  kind,  and  in  no  case  in  which  I 
have  been  concerned  has  a  drop  of  blood  been  shed.  As 
to  the  carrying  off  of  the  boy,  it  was  entirely  managed 
by  me.  I  had  agents,  men  on  whom  I  could  rely,  al  a 
word  of  mine  would  have  sent  them  to  penal  servitude 
for  life.  We  knew  that  suspicion  would  fall  upon  Simcoe, 
and  that  it  was  important  that  he  should  be  able  to  ac- 
count for  every  hour  of  his  time.  Therefore,  on  the  day 
the  child  was  carried  away  he  went  down  to  Stowmarket, 


334  TEE  LOST  HEIR. 

while  I  managed  the  affair  and  took  the  child  down  t® 
the  place  where  he  was  hidden  in  the  Essex  marshes.  It 
was  I  also  who  made  the  arrangements  by  which  the 
body  of  1?he  child  about  the  same  age,  who  had  died  in 
the  workhouse,  was  placed  in  the  canal  in  some  of  the 
clothes  the  missing  heir  had  worn  when  taken  away.  I 
owe  it  to  myself  to  say  that  in  all  this  there  was  no 
question  of  payment  between  this  man  and  myself.  I 
am  well  off,  and  I  acted  simply  to  oblige  a  man  who  had 
stood  by  the  side  of  my  brother  to  death.  Whether  his 
name  was  Simcoe  or  Sanderson  mattered  nothing  to  me; 
I  should  have  aided  him  just  the  same.  But  I  did  believe 
that  it  was  Simcoe,  and  that,  having  risked  his  life  to 
save  that  of  General  Mathieson,  he  had  as  good  a  right 
as  another  to  his  inheritance.  He  never  hinted  to  me 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  the  child  was  got  rid  of 
altogether.  He  knew  well  enough  that  if  he  had  done 
so  I  would  not  only  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but 
that  I  would  have  taken  steps  to  have  put  a  stop  to  his 
game  altogether.  Now  I  have  only  to  add  that,  having 
fairly  stated  the  part  that  I  bore  in  this  affair,  I  have 
nothing  more  to  say,  except  that  I  have  now  retired 
from  business  altogether,  and  that  this  is  the  last  that 
the  world  will  hear  of  William  Sanderson's  accomplice." 

For  four  or  five  years  Hilda  Covington  devoted  much 
of  her  time  to  assisting  Netta  Leeds  in  her  work,  but 
at  the  end  of  that  time  she  married.  Her  husband  was 
a  widower,  whose  wife  had  died  in  her  first  confinement. 
His  name  was  Desmond.  He  sold  out  of  the  army,  and 
Hilda  never  had  reason  to  regret  that  she  had  played 
the  part  of  a  gypsy  woman  at  Lady  Moulton's  fete. 

Walter  grew  up  strong  and  healthy,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  men  of  his  county.  His  early  love  for  the 
water  developed,  and  he  served  his  time  as  a  midship- 
man in  one  of  Her  Majesty's  ships,  and  passed  as  a 
lieutenant.  He  then  retired  from  the  service  and 
bought  a  fine  yacht,  which  he  himself  commanded.  His 
friends  were  never  able  to  understand  why  he  allowed 


A  LETTER  FROM  ABROAD.  835 

!his  nominal  skipper,  William  Nibson,  to  take  his  wife 
on  board,  and  gave  up  two  cabins  for  their  accommoda- 
tion. The  barge  Walter  passed  into  the  hands  of  Joshua, 
iwho,  for  many  years,  sailed  her  most  successfully.  He 
is  new  an  elderly  man,  and  his  four  sons  are  skippers  of 
as  many  fine  barges,  all  his  own  property. 


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